


Heart And Hurt

by Arkada



Series: Hand In Mine [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Author regrets nothing, Bondage, Captivity, Discussions of non-con, FrostIron - Freeform, M/M, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, So much angst, Temperature kink, Warning: Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkada/pseuds/Arkada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When half of the Avengers and Loki are taken captive by a mutual enemy, Tony must decide how much he trusts the God of Mischief. Because their only plan involves Tony putting himself at Loki's mercy, and he's not sure the god feels, understands, or has heard of the concept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Held

**Author's Note:**

> Avengers isn't mine. Who's surprised?

The stone scraped his palms as he slammed the smaller man against the wall with his body. He locked his hands around Stark’s wrists, pinning him there, and smiled at the way he twisted and jerked, trying to get free. 

All his efforts, and he gained himself not one inch. Loki let himself laugh.  

“Not today, Stark. No armor, no friends. You’re mine.” 

His voice was thin, gasping, but determined. “ _Fuck… you_.” 

Loki’s blood surged and, even though Stark couldn’t see, he smiled coldly. “If you insist.” He dragged Stark’s hands together and took both his wrists in a single grip. His free hand caressed Stark’s neck, cold skin on hot, and when Stark flinched he let his nails scrape down instead, following those pulsing veins, blue beneath the layers of skin, driving up a red flush everywhere he touched.  

“Get off me!” 

“But you’re so… _pretty,_ ” and _oh,_ he loved the way Stark flung his head away from Loki’s lips in his ear. Loved the frantic heartbeat he could feel where his chest met Stark’s back, where his fingers probed the join of neck and shoulder. Loved it almost too much. 

He thrust his arousal against Stark’s rear and lost himself for just one moment in the definite _moan_ from that mouth. This would be easier than he’d thought.  

He backed away ever so slightly, just enough to allow room between Stark’s body and the wall for his hand to slide down, under Stark’s shirt, and then up over his chest. The skin sang under his fingertips, fiery and alive, muscles fluttering as Stark pushed back against him, writhing harder in his grip.  

His fingers met metal and he ran them around the circular abyss in Stark’s chest. “What did you say this was? For your _arc reactor_ , was it?” 

“Don’t - no, please, don’t-” 

“Don’t? Dangerous word to say to _me_. I do what I want, and right now, I very much want whatever has you so _upset_.” And he dipped his hand inside the gaping hole. 

Hot metal met fingers wherever he brushed against the edges, and searing sparks of pain leapt to meet him, dancing up his arm. He went in further, deeper, found the back section: a complex arrangement, prongs sticking up, thin wires crisscrossing, thicker metal beneath them. And he could _feel_ Stark’s heart, barely a finger’s width away, beating and pulsing. It echoed his own, the blood pounding in his ears, along his body, pooling in his groin. He felt himself harden further with the knowledge that Stark’s heart was _right there_ , almost touchable. Vulnerable. His to smother, if he so chose. 

He didn’t. But he _could_. 

“What the _hell_ -” Stark’s chest moved as he spoke and they both twitched, pain crawling along Loki’s arm as his hand touched metal again. “Are you doing?” 

“Making you _suffer_ for what you did to me. This world would be mine if not for you! Well, I will have it yet. I’m going to _break_ you, _use_ you up so thoroughly that when I lead another army against your precious Midgard, you won’t have the will or desire to stand against me. I will have you be the first to _kneel_.” And he stepped back, releasing Stark abruptly, grinning when he dropped to the floor. He dug a foot under Stark’s ribs and kicked him over onto his back. Stark scrabbled backwards, uncoordinated, arms and legs wild, gaining little purchase on the smooth stone. Loki followed him, all long, slow strides, and smirked as Stark worked himself into a corner. “There’s nowhere to go. You’re _mine_.” 

Stark spat. “Go fuck yourself.” 

Oh, that was perfect. Loki seized Stark by the neck and flung him the scant distance into the centre of the cell, and planted a foot firmly in his back. And leaned down, replacing the foot with his knee, and then simply straddled him. “Why would I do that when I’ve got you?” 

Stark went still for just one instant, and Loki’s skin _thrilled_ with Stark’s terror. He could almost feel the waves of fear washing over him.  

He leaned forward, his whole body resting along Stark’s, to whisper in his ear. “You should scream. I like it when you scream.” 

Stark’s hands flew at Loki’s head, and he jerked upright to avoid the panicked clawing. Stark had spirit. _Heart_ , as he had so prized in Agent Barton. Maybe Stark was not his in the way that Barton had been, but this was awfully close.  

He recaptured Stark’s hands, no hard task when Stark couldn’t see what he was doing and was trying to reach behind himself. The sliding whisper of leather on leather as he removed his belt had Stark thrashing again, legs drumming uselessly on the floor, arms jerking desperately in his grasp. Loki wrapped the belt around Stark’s wrists tightly and buckled it.  

“This will be so much easier on you if you just give in,” Loki said, sighing, sounding as though he were indeed sorry for the harm that Stark would come to. He clenched his fingers in Stark’s hair, almost too short to make a good hold, and slammed his head once into the stone floor. Stark groaned, and went almost still, body trying faintly to curl up and protect itself.  

Protection, right now, was exactly what Stark needed. Loki shifted, kneeling on either side of Stark’s hips, and rolled him over. He whimpered as his weight crushed his hands behind his back.  

Loki ran a teasing finger down Stark’s chest, skipping lightly over the abyss to focus on his abdomen. Stark bucked, and _hissed_ , and his flinches cracked his own head into the stone. Wonderful. Always better when they hurt themselves.  

Loki tore Stark’s shirt open, and plunged his hand back into that metal cavity. It hummed around him, hot and unfriendly. To think that this was the way Stark kept himself alive. 

Well, not quite. Something rather vital was missing. 

“Careless of you to let them take your most prized possession.” 

“I didn’t _let_ them - I was - unconscious - and it’s not like you did any better!” 

Loki slapped him for that, almost casually. But there was nothing casual about the way Stark’s head _snapped_ sideways, and he spat blood. Beautiful. “Do not think to judge me!” 

“You’ve got me tied up, you say you’re going to _punish_ me, and all you’re doing is sitting there? I’m doing all sorts of judging right now.” 

Loki snarled, and with his free hand started unlacing his trousers. “You will have no time for that soon enough. You will have no _thought_ that is not about the pain you are in, about the absolute _degradation_ -” 

“You think you’re that good? You think you can do anything to me that I haven’t already done to myself?” 

Loki _grinned_ , and Stark’s face shifted from defiant to afraid, just at Loki’s promise of pain. All he had done was smile, and he had this. Delicious. “Let’s find out.”


	2. Taken

_Two hours earlier:_

_This,_ Tony Stark thought for the one thousand, two hundred and ninety-seventh time in his life, _is a really bad idea_. 

So bad, in fact, that he wanted to pin Loki to the wall and wring out of him everything he knew about magic and sorcery so he could understand just _how_ bad an idea this was. 

In certain other circumstances, it would have been a very _good_ idea, because it was actually kind of refreshing to be walking around the streets of Manhattan completely unnoticed. Invisible. Separated off from the rest of humanity by a barrier of something that Loki refused to explain. 

And _God_ , did Tony want explanations. Since the invasion, he had longed almost non-stop for what Loki’s magic could do, united with his own technology. Really, _lusted_ almost non-stop, that was; he wanted it so much it almost scared him. Magic was something really, truly _new_. Something he hadn’t hashed over a hundred times already. 

Nuclear fusion? _Boring_. Time travel? _Old news_. Sure, he hadn’t managed to actually _invent_ those - _fuck_ \- but he’d tried, again and again and nothing new had come up in ages. He had no idea how Edison had hung on for thousands of failures before finally finishing with the light bulb. 

His toe snagged on a section of pavement, and oh yeah, he was walking in an invisible magic bubble with Loki not two feet away from him and he had to focus on that or he’d probably end up worse than defenestrated this time. 

True, Steve and Thor could probably do the focusing for him, and to be completely honest they _were_ doing the focusing for him, but without the added backup of Clint, Natasha and Bruce, Tony would actually be needed if anything happened. 

That was an _incredibly_ appalling set-up. 

Appalling enough that Thor had decided that seeing the damage he had wreaked would somehow make Loki understand the true consequences of his actions. Worse when the only time that the cosmos was lined up for them to come here, or something along those lines, Loki _wouldn’t damn explain,_ was when Clint and Natasha were both unreachable on SHIELD missions and not just Coulson-wouldn’t-contact-them, but _really_ unreachable. _Even worse_ than that was that Loki had refused to come at all if it involved Bruce being anywhere within a ten-mile radius of him, and Thor, anxious to secure Loki’s cooperation, or, at any rate, limit his active resistance, had agreed. Giant softie. As it happened, Bruce was currently in the public clinic, more than ten miles away, which he hadn’t left since the attack, and probably wouldn’t have abandoned his patients to guard Loki in any case. 

Still, that left only Tony and Steve to do the actual guarding while Thor attempted to show Loki the error of his ways. 

Fuck, Tony was glad he had no siblings. 

“And see this, brother?” 

“A crater. Another one. Very like, in fact, the twelve you have shown me already.” 

Thor snarled, and boy did he look scary when he was angry. Not Bruce-scary, but still. “You _will_ understand this. This is not Asgard, with a thousand years to heal. Many of these people will not see their city returned to normal. Imagine Asgard broken and smoking for the rest of your life!” 

Loki stopped and spun to face Thor, leather coat whirling, and Tony and Steve stopped with him, stuck in the magic invisible bubble. “I don’t have to _imagine_. I saw the Bifrost. It was the _last_ thing I saw. The crystal speared the sky. The heavens _bled_. And who did that? Who broke a world? Who cut out the beating heart of his own realm’s power, who destroyed the thing that made us greater than all others?” 

The words chilled Tony and he turned his attention towards Thor and _holy crap, it was_ _true_ , because if Loki was just making it up then Thor wouldn’t look like… _like he’d killed his own world._ God of lies Loki might be, but he could cut deeper with truths, apparently. Tony would have hammered him by now, for bringing that back to the surface, for reminding him of something so obviously painful and raw. 

But Thor smiled. “ _Us_ , brother?” 

Loki’s face froze, and Tony grinned behind his faceplate. He’d been _Natasha’d_. Again! And not even by Natasha this time. Who’d have thought that Thor could be subtle enough to pick out that one important word and throw it back? 

“Are you done?” 

Loki glared at Steve, gave what might have been a growl, and strode off again. The magic hemmed the others in, stupid weird crazy magic and damn did he want some, and they followed him. 

“Speaking of craters,” Tony said, “did I tell you what I did with your very own?” 

Loki glanced back, amusement/boredom etched into his face and _amusement/boredom_ , really, how could he read _combo_ emotions on Loki’s face and how could anybody pull off _amusement/boredom_ anyway? 

“The hole in my floor the Hulk made with you. I’ve had it glassed over. It’s lovely. Fitting monument, I think. Evidence of your real _impact_ on Earth. Great conversation piece. And I laugh every time I see it.”

Loki turned on his heel to face him, smiling. “So glad to be of service,” he said, and gave a mocking half-bow. “Maybe I’ll seal you in there when I conquer your world.” 

Thor seized his shoulder and ripped him back around. “You are not here to exchange insults. You see the devastation you have caused! See the blood you spilled…” 

Tony yawned, glad Steve couldn’t see him slacking off, but he deserved a bit of slacking off because it was going to be a _really_ long day. 

~ 

Loki seethed, feeling his magic boiling beneath the layer Odin had bound it under. All his power so _close_ , so close he could almost touch it, and not able to draw it out, to weave it into the chaotic patterns he so loved. To think he had mocked Thor in his own time of trial, with Mjolnir beneath his hands but unable to wield it. _Brother, I’m sorry…_

But it was too late. Too late for anything. It had been too late to go back the moment he had let go and fallen. He had known then they would never take him back, not as a son, not as a brother, no matter how much he longed for it. He was lost. 

And _Thor…_ Loki’s fingers curled, fists clenched so hard his knuckles ached. He longed rip out those loving eyes, silence those caring words, to stuff the truth down his throat until he choked on it, until he knew that no matter what he offered Loki now, no matter how Loki wanted to take it, it was too late. Thor just didn’t know it yet, didn’t know that Loki had never stopped falling. Loki had seen the void, the abyss, the real true _nothing_ of existence. 

And it had seen him. 

He almost took the shred of power left to him - _for your own protection -_ and fled right then. But couldn’t. Thor would find him, as Thor always did. That green _thing_ would probably come for him. Even Stark’s armor was worth wariness. And running would solve nothing. The void did not go away. It was just as he had been told. _No realm, no barren moon, no crevice where we cannot find you._ The void was everywhere. Everything. 

And he belonged to it. 

It was too big. Those falling never reached the bottom. There was no end to it. Even now, his feet felt like they were swinging through empty space. Nothing beneath him, nothing to stand on. No support, no strength. 

Nothing. 

He reached out for his brother. “Thor, I want-” 

 _Nothing._

Nothing happened. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. Nothing was there, to hold or to hear. _He_ wasn’t there, wasn’t real, had never been real… 

He flailed out, and touched something. _Grab, pull-_  

And burst out, magic tingling along his fingers. _For your own protection._

Protection from _what?_ What had that _been?_ Loki was not prone to melancholy, to falling into despair. _Void?_ He’d never thought of anything of the sort. Cursing Thor? _Never_ had he wished harm to Thor. 

Done harm, certainly, but never wished to. 

He shook his head to clear it, and felt his hair brush something behind him. Something hard. 

Not the ground, surely? He hadn’t collapsed in that fey shift of mind, had he? 

He reached - down? behind? - and pushed himself up. Maybe. And opened his eyes. 

 _Well. This looks familiar._

There was a certain uniformity to all cages. This one was a cold, stone cube, a single door in the wall to his right. The major light source was set in the ceiling, and four tiny red ones hung in each of the ceiling’s corners. 

 _Ah, cameras. Someone watches. Good._

He could do things, if they watched him, he could manipulate, could play, could terrify. Of course, it helped if he had any idea who _they_ were. The Avengers had been easy, with Agent Barton ready to give up everything Loki needed. But he knew nothing of this new enemy. 

 _No. I know one thing. They have magic. That black mood must have been something they threw over me to bring me here._

So they had magic more powerful than his. That told him… very little, considering the state of his strength. _For your own protection_. Clearly, Odin had not suspected a threat of this magnitude. Unless this was _his_ exile, twin to Thor’s, some clichéd quest to redeem himself and prove himself _worthy_. 

 _I already tried that. I tried. And you said,_ no, Loki _. So don’t ask again!_

And, ah. This wasn’t a plot of Odin’s at all. 

Odin would never have allowed Stark to be imprisoned with him. 

Loki shifted to cross the small space between them, and looked the mortal over. He was pale, motionless, his eyes shut; he might have been sleeping. Out of his armor, he was smaller, obviously human. Talented, yes, but to take away the expression of those talents… 

 _He is me, without my magic._

Ghastly thought. Loki was no mortal, Loki was a _god_ , merely temporarily weakened, he was _nothing_ like this man! Still. He let his hand rest on Stark’s neck, and felt the faint yet steady pulse. For all his frailty, Loki needed him, needed those talents to get him out of here. Loki knew too little about the Midgardian technology which surely imprisoned him, if the cameras were an indication of the whole. He needed Stark’s mind, and for that, he needed him alive. And awake. 

“Stark,” he said, slapping at his face gently. The eyes didn’t open. “Stark!” 

Stark’s breathing fluttered at that, and his eyelids twitched. Conscious, more or less. Loki slapped him again. That won him a clumsily swung arm, batted easily aside. 

“Get up.” 

 _Now_ the eyes opened, blurry and unfocused, but Loki could be patient. He knew human weakness. Stark would take time to recover. 

His lips moved, and the words were semi-clear. “Wha’s…” 

An excellent question. “Don’t ask me,” Loki said. “I remember nothing after our spat over your glassed floor.” Nothing he trusted, anyway. Even those early thoughts hadn’t been his. 

Stark rolled to his front, and pushed himself upright. His hands slipped, and he caught himself on an elbow with a groan. Loki waited as he dragged himself over to a wall and leant against that. 

“They hit me with an EMP,” he complained. “That’s cheating.” 

“A what?” 

“An EMP. Kills anything that runs on electricity. Though you probably don’t know what electricity is. My suit became less of a suit and more of a coffin. Pretty much its only weakness.” 

Loki frowned. “And they knew that my weakness was my lack of access to my magic. I would not be surprised if they have taken Thor and your captain as well. They are clearly well-informed. And powerful. I thought your people knew nothing of magic?” 

Stark shrugged. “Maybe they’re not my people. Asgard, your army, there’s way more out there than us. Could be one of them.” 

Loki sighed. “It matters little who they are. There is nothing we can do, for now. Unless you have some ideas?” 

“Get my suit back, and we’re out of here,” Stark said, with a grin, and slapped his chest. 

And his face took on the purest look of horror Loki had ever seen. 

“Oh no, oh god no!” He thrust his hand up under his shirt and felt at something in the centre of his chest. “Oh _fuck!_ ” 

“Are you injured?” 

“Those bastards took my-” 

The door opened. 

Loki spun, and rose to his feet, and shifted himself between Stark and the door. If he _was_ carrying a wound, and that seemed likely, Loki needed to avert further harm to him. Protecting a mortal. Hah. That he had come to this.

Then something cracked across his face and the ground slammed into his body. He spat hair from his mouth and whirled back to face the attack. 

A faceless black figure lowered one of the popular human guns. “No talking.” And it backed out, closing the door. 

Loki’s fingers probed along his jaw, but already the throbbing ache was subsiding. Perhaps they didn’t know whom they were dealing with, if they thought hitting him with something would be effective. 

Ah, but that figure had to be low in their hierarchy. Dangerous to confuse what _he_ knew with what those in charge knew. _They_ would be watching the cameras, if they knew the value of the prize they had taken. 

If. If. They. They. Too many unknowns. He needed information, needed knowledge. 

And to gain it, he needed power. 

He reached out, deep, pushed himself through Odin’s barrier. He had done this before, a hundred times. It was easily breached from the outside. From the inside, harder. To bring the magic out with him, impossible. Thus far. But he _needed_ it. It wasn’t only for his own protection, this time; it was for Stark’s too. He had already taken one blow for the man, wasn’t that enough proof of his good intent? 

 _I know you are watching me!_

Fingers curled around the smoldering icy remnants of his magic, centuries of learning, of study, of training, and he lifted. It came with him, surging along his arms, rushing through his blood. 

But the barrier blocked him, firm, immovable. Unhearing. 

He snarled at it; curse Odin, curse Thor, curse Stark, curse _himself_ , what did it matter anymore? To save them both without his magic was impossible. 

Well. Loki had always liked the impossible. 

And perhaps there was still something to gain here. He combed through the threads, choosing carefully. _For your own protection_. He had already been struck once; surely the ability to duplicate himself, to create a false image, would be considered protection? To walk unseen with his absence undetected? He took up just enough to do so, and brushed away the rest, gently, cold fire clinging to his fingers stubbornly. It hurt and ached deep in his chest to deny himself, he _wanted_ this, it was _his_ , why should he have had to push it away, but he could dissolve Odin’s magic later. The cast-offs winked, and flickered at him, promising glory, power, eternity… _useless_. 

He wrapped the single thread around the others inside him, and _push_ , and the barrier melted around him and spat him back into himself. 

Had he done it? He called, softly, _come_ , and felt the answering hot-cold glow in his fingertips, stronger than before. Increased. He barely hid his smirk. Odin’s barrier wasn’t perfect. Perhaps even more could be taken. Eventually. For now, punishment or no, he had to talk to Stark. They had had near half a minute the last time. Quickly, then. 

“Stark. Talk. What’s wrong with your chest?” 

Stark’s eyes shifted away - reluctant, ashamed? - as he pulled up his shirt. Loki felt his eyes go wide and swallowed nausea. A circular metal abyss in his chest, gapingly empty, wide and yawning. It was terrible, it should have killed him, this chasm carved into his chest, and yet here he was. “They stole my arc reactor. Goes in there. Powers an electromagnet keeping shrapnel out of my heart. Once it gets close enough…” 

The dire tone spoke clearly the words Stark did not want to voice. “It will be fatal?” 

“Yeah.” 

“How long before it kills you?” 

Stark’s lips thinned and he pulled his shirt back down. “Guy who installed it first said that it took a few days. But the first device wasn’t all that strong, and adding up all the times it hasn’t been running… three days. Maybe. Could easily be less.” 

“So escape is only worthwhile if you get it back, this… _arc reactor._ ” The words tasted strange and metallic in his mouth, words he didn’t know. 

There were footsteps in the corridor outside, running towards them. A guard to interrupt them once more? And he would have to open the door to do so. Loki pushed himself to the opposite wall, sitting and leaning back, a pose comfortable enough that remaining motionless would not cause supsicion. And then, _split something, essence, identity, pull it in and through and out…_ always complex, that one… And at the same time _, conceal, hide, run_ … He stood, stepping out of the image, quiet and relaxed against the wall, while he was covered by a veil, keeping in sight and sound. 

The door opened and Loki tensed, waiting, watching. The guard stepped in, waving his gun again - clumsy oaf, Agent Barton had always been respectful and careful with his weapons - but he was still too close to the door. Loki slipped sideways, nearly touching him, hovering at what would be a big enough gap to escape through if the man took just one more step… 

“Oh, piss off, you’re not fooling anybody with this whole-” 

The guard moved to silence Stark and Loki took his chance, through the door in a heartbeat. 

~ 

Tony groaned as he sat up again. Goddamn action movies with their unrealistic impressions of reality. The recently-conscious heroes always got punched in the head or kicked in the guts or both, and nothing bad ever happened to them! He, on the other hand, felt like his internal organs had been rearranged in order of mass and his head was throbbing and spinning like the worst hangover he’d ever had. 

He wanted to raise a hand to hold it, try and relieve some of the pain, but if he let go, he might fall off the ceiling… 

He cracked open an eye and blinked, but hey, at least the world was the right way up. He leveled his best agony-fueled-semi-conscious-one-eyed glare at Loki, lounging against the opposite wall, legs crossed, hands folded in his lap, composed and elegant like they _weren’t_ in a cell and captives of an unknown enemy whose goons had a distressing habit of casual assault. “I hate you.” 

Loki didn’t even blink. Or twitch. Or move. Which, come to think of it - oh, thinking, he was still thinking, that was disturbingly reassuring - was unusual. Loki _moved_. It was kind of a thing. Loki should have been… pacing. Or strutting, more accurately, he was Tony Stark, he was always accurate. 

He was also dying. 

Well, fuck. 

 _Fuck!_

He was Tony _fucking_ Stark and he had already blown up one fucking terrorist group with a suit made in a fucking hellhole out of fucking scraps and he was _not_ going to fucking die in a fucking cell without spitting even fucking once in the fucking face of his fucking captor! 

He was gasping for air by the time that thought ran out of energy. Thank God he hadn’t been in this mood while writing any of his thesis applications. 

… _to fucking explore the potential fucking properties of the fucking semi-fusion of two fucking unstable elements_ … 

A laugh bubbled from his lips. That thesis hadn’t gone well, as it happened; the administration had pulled the plug when it had turned out that the properties of the semi-fusion of two unstable elements included the destruction of the whole physics building and even though he had paid for the new one without requiring it to be named the Tony Stark Physics Building, they hadn’t let him complete his research. 

 _Maybe I’ll try again when I don’t die._  

He was in a cell with _Loki_ , for crying out loud! Loki who had only been in SHIELD’s custody because he wanted to be, Loki who had walked out of said custody almost effortlessly, Loki who had apparently sweet-talked Thor into a visit to Earth _sans_ gag, chains or any of the other creative slightly-more-practical-than-BDSM-standard equipment that Thor had assured them Asgard was fully stocked with. Loki would have them out of here in minutes. 

Except for the little problem where he was apparently _napping._ He _still_ hadn’t moved since sitting down and given that the last time they’d met he’d thrown Tony out of a window, nobody would have blamed him for thinking that Loki would be a little more violence-happy. 

The door opened again and he pushed himself away, and how crazy were these guys anyway, because they hadn’t even been talking this time and okay, he’d said _I hate you_ but that had been ages ago! 

The guard poked his head in and Tony raised his hands and for once in his life kept his mouth shut. His internal organs still weren’t in the right arrangement and his head was still throbbing and he had no wish to see them, oh, say, swap places? No, wait a minute, that could work, he could probably function with a liver and a kidney or three in his skull and his brain in his abdomen, right? That just put it closer to the source of the coffee. 

 _Go for it, then._ “Are you just going to mess with us all day or-” 

His skull caved in from the force of the blow and he fell sideways, gasping, blinded by the wide streak of white hot flashing pain. _Not_ swapping his organs around then, just bashing them until they stopped working and oh _god_ , was he concussed? It hurt like hell but the last thing he needed was actual trauma, and damn but it hurt. 

By the time he sat up again, head spinning, the door was shut and Loki was stretching like watching Tony get beat up was a lovely afternoon’s entertainment. _For this guy? It probably is._

 _Thanks for the help_ , he almost said, but really he’d had enough of this and he refused to spend his last hours as Loki’s cable TV. 

Loki stood, all long limbs and black and green leather, and walked over slowly. No, strode, Tony Stark, accuracy - 

“You’ve got a death wish, haven’t you, Stark? Keep drawing their attention, hope that maybe one of them will put you out of your misery?” 

“I’m not the one _talking_ ,” Tony spat, and really, death wish? Him? “And I very much intend to survive.” 

Loki’s eyes flashed with something that Tony didn’t want to think about but did anyway. Glee? Triumph? “Good.” And he was jerked into the air, Loki’s hand fisted in his tee, and slammed back against the wall. And then Loki’s mouth was right next to his ear, cold breath curling against his skin. 

“I have enough magic to keep the shrapnel out of your heart, but only if I stay close to you. _Very_ close.” 

“Oh, good to-” His guts exploded and he doubled over in pain, Loki’s fist still buried in his stomach - only not literally, which was very very good right now. For all Thor could kick his butt, Loki was actually a god too, definitely outclassing Tony, and he could probably have punched right through him if he’d wanted to. So he didn’t want to. For whatever the hell reason and despite how much it looked like it, Loki didn’t actually want him dead. But then what the hell was this about? 

“Trust me and follow my lead. There’s only one way they will let me stay this close to you.” 

And his face split as Loki backhanded him savagely, spun him around, and pressed his body to the wall. Fingers wrapped around his wrists, long and cold and strong, like actual _manacles_ , and Tony pushed back against Loki’s body but this was a god he was dealing with and he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Loki laughed, low and menacing and sending chills down Tony’s spine. “Not today, Stark. No armor, no friends. You’re mine.” 

 _Trust me and follow my lead_. It wasn’t like he had much choice. “ _Fuck… you._ ” 

“If you insist.” 

Tony flinched and struggled harder, because there was playing along and there was _playing along_ , and he’d never been into this sort of thing even if they _were_ just playing and _damn Loki was strong and he couldn’t move an inch that Loki didn’t allow him and wasn’t he just completely screwed?_  

~ 

Loki let himself smile and it wasn’t for the cameras this time. Holding the tiny scraps of metal buried inside Stark’s chest was far more effortless than he had thought it would be. The first touch of their skin had been enough for the tendrils to loop out of Loki and into Stark, to wrap around the metal and hold it motionless. He didn’t need to control it at all, now. Merely maintain the contact and allow the magic to work for him. 

And maintaining the contact was _such fun_. 

He had not imagined trying anything like this when he had slipped, invisible, from their cell. Merely hoped to gather enough information that he and Stark could come up with some plan resulting in their mutual survival. But sliding down the corridor, which resembled nothing so much as their cell stretched out, grey stone walls and nothing else, he had come to what was obviously a headquarters, a place of surveillance and planning. It had contained two men, apparently human, watching an array of monitors closely. 

And talking. They had been bemoaningthe fact that their captives were uninteresting _._ They had expected morefrom the soldier and the demigod, and Loki had drunk in the image of Thor, unsure whether this pained him or pleased him or both. That Thor was nearby, that he was well - that he would know that Loki’s imprisonment by the Allfather was not as merciful as it might have seemed, after tasting it himself. And that Thor was trapped, miserable, without Mjolnir, as vulnerable as Stark or Loki. 

And then he had heard his name. Loki and Stark were just sitting there, doing nothing, when surely they should have been at each other’s throats by now. _Where’s the blood?_ one had lamented, _I thought he’d be ripping him apart!_ The other had answered that it was too dangerous to hold them for long, that they’d have to call it a lost cause sooner or later. 

 _Entertainment._ Loki had known he could do entertainment. _Blood and ripping, hmm?_ Loki could easily give them enough of a show to make it worth keeping them alive. 

Preserving Stark’s life would be simple, with magic, providing he was in physical contact at nearly all times. And, well, _physical contact_ combined with _blood and ripping_ and it had been perfectly obvious what to do. 

This. 

Stark on the floor, hands bound behind his back, and Loki straddling him. Threats, cruelty, malice. “I’d like to kill you slowly,” Loki said, trailing the sharpest object he had been able to find down Stark’s bare chest - a simple metal ornament from around his own neck. A curved band of iron covered thinly in gold, it served well enough, and it was hardly as if he were truly going to need to kill Stark with it. “Strip every inch of skin from your body and make you watch while I…” He leaned down to Stark’s ear to finish. Those watching would think he was whispering of blood, while actually… “They want to see us turn on each other. They want a show, and we are going to give them one. That lets me keep you alive, and then you can get us out of here.” 

He gasped and nearly fell as Stark slammed his head into Loki’s. Loki blinked and reared back, eyes watering. 

“You can’t do anything to me!” 

Not answering what Loki had said. Did Stark agree to go along with his plan or not? True, they could not let their captors know they had a plan at all, but Loki needed consent to push it to its limits. “Why not? It’s just you and me here, and if we are not interrupted, who are you to say what I can’t do?” Was that a plain enough message to those listening? _Leave us alone and you will have your entertainment_. 

He raised the metal band and turned it slowly, watching Stark’s eyes follow it. “How blunt do you think something has to be before it can’t break skin?” He didn’t wait for an answer, lowering its edge to Stark’s bare chest and sliding it along one of his ribs. Stark’s breathing fluttered, short and gasping, and Loki grinned. 

The skin did not break, but it flushed red, the dragging edge catching and drawing the blood to the surface. Loki snarled as if frustrated and threw the metal away. “We’ll have to try something else.” 

It was probably too early to go so far, but he had little enough to work with, and keeping their captors interested was the priority here. So he stood up, let Stark drag himself away into a corner, and pushed his loosened trousers down over his hips. “I’m going to enjoy this.” 

“Of _course_ you are, you _sick fucker_ ,” Stark spat, eyes burning with fury, but - was that his consent, there? He had said _of course,_ not _kill me first_ or _don’t you dare_ or _I’ll never let you touch me_. The closest thing to consent that Stark could give him, most likely, now that he knew that their enemies were watching. That their enemies cared not about his consent, most likely wanted the _absence_ of his consent. 

Loki kicked his trousers free of his legs and crossed the cell to Stark in two strides. And _knelt_ , laughing silently at himself for that, to reach out for Stark’s garments. He pinned Stark to the wall, his other hand around his neck, providing both immobilization and the magic-sustaining contact, and the throbbing, fluttering pulse there didn’t quite feel like terror. 

Neither did Stark’s noticeable arousal as Loki stripped his trousers and undergarments away. 

Well. He had not expected that. But it wasn’t every day one of these mortals got to be fucked by a god.


	3. Performance

_This,_ Tony Stark thought for the one thousand, two hundred and ninety-eighth time in his life, _is a really bad idea_. 

Unfortunately, letting Loki appear to rape him was also the _best,_ and only,idea they’d come up with. It was probably completely psychosomatic, but he could feel the shrapnel _not_ moving, little needle points just staying still, exactly like when the arc reactor was in its _fucking proper place_. The mumbo-jumbo magic crap that Loki still wouldn’t explain to him was working. Which meant, if he wanted to live, which he very much did, he had to go through… _this_. 

Right now, _this_ was a half naked Loki _and damn, those were some long legs_ , and oh god but those legs feel would so good wrapped around his waist, all cool and strong - but this was _Loki_ , Loki who was the last person he should have been attracted to, and anyway he was meant to be coming up with a plan of escape. 

Well, he’d thought about stranger things while screwing someone he didn’t really want to be screwing, and this time he didn’t have to fake interest, just lie still and let Loki take advantage of him and scream for the cameras. 

On the other hand, that actually sounded kind of okay. 

Firstly, _god_ , and Loki was hung like one, nice and long and thick, and that alone was almost worth jumping him for, cameras or no cameras. Secondly, he thought better when he was actually doing something, he’d never been one for sitting idle, which meant taking part would actually get the escape plan up and running, pun intended, even faster. Thirdly, the idea of pretending to be raped while their captors were watching, and loving every minute, while actually plotting how to escape and incidentally kill said captors was kind of turning him on. 

For the sake of accuracy, he admitted that it was _really_ turning him on. 

Damn, he was messed up, but this was going to be _fun_. 

He lunged up as if to headbutt Loki, currently straddling his naked hips and pretending to break things inside the arc reactor cavity. Loki seized his head in both hands, but Tony had gotten far enough up to be able to whisper in his ear, and hope the guys watching couldn’t lip-read. 

“Let’s do this.” 

Loki grinned at him, and shoved him back down to the floor. His bound hands ached from his weight and Loki’s crushing them, but turning them as flat as he could and pulling them up into the small of his back made it manageable. And they had bigger concerns. 

Loki crawled up his chest, trailing those long fingers _fucking everywhere_ , sending chills corkscrewing through his skin like frozen fireworks, bare cock one cold streak further down. “This can go one of two ways, Stark. I can take you dry and let you bleed out all over me… and maybe I’ll do that anyway. We’ve got as long as I want. Or…” And Loki rose up, just a bit, and his cock was _right in Tony’s face_ and damn if he didn’t wish he was a god too, if it meant he got equipment like _that_. “You can make this easier on yourself, and remember that you’ll regret anything… unwise.” 

Melodramatic, vainglorious and slightly cheesy. Was Loki channeling all the worst James Bond films or was he really that insane? 

Oops, he wasn’t supposed to the thinking that. He was meant to be thinking only two things: one, _oh my god he’s going to kill me and I’m terrified and I’d better do exactly as he says!_ and not even think that very hard, because that was just acting, or maybe about eighty-six percent acting, and two, _we are going to escape by…_  

Given that two would come along on its own, he decided to focus on one, and nodded, eyes wide, and let his mouth slip open. 

Loki’s eyebrows rose, just a little, so small he’d almost missed it, and the fact that Tony’s submission had _surprised_ Loki told him that this really was just a show. That Loki really wasn’t after revenge or humiliation or anything more. Loki wouldn’t be _surprised_ if a puny tiny mortal gave in to his threats. He _would_ be surprised if said mortal went along with the simulated exhibitionistic rape. 

And then Tony’s mouth was _full_ of Loki’s cock and it was rubbing the back of his throat and just everywhere and he could feel it throbbing and was Loki actually this turned on by _him?_ Was Tony Stark actually getting it from a god? He ran his tongue along the underside, smooth and cold and going on and on and on and Loki’s whole body shuddered, legs closing in around Tony’s shoulders, cock twitching. His hands grabbed Tony’s hair, sharp tugging pain in his scalp, but that really wasn’t much of anything when he was fucking _sucking off a god_. And not just any god, but _Loki_ , who’d actively tried to kill him and was damn gorgeous now he came to think about it and _right here_. 

Tony sucked, and tried to swirl saliva around Loki’s cock, because that was actually the point of what they were doing, substitute lube, mostly, Loki probably had about eight goals that were accomplished with every action, but that really wasn’t that impressive because Tony made sure he had at least nine, or was that zero point nine, or zero point zero nine, yeah that was probably the closest, and Loki’s skin was soft against his tongue and just kept on going, all the way down his throat until Tony swallowed around him and felt his airway protest and swell and he wasn’t even going to be able to talk to tell Loki the plan that he was totally coming up with right now… 

Loki drew back, slowly, and thrust forward again and hit him right in the back of the throat until he choked and _were those his balls slapping Tony in the chin?_ Yes, almost certainly, unless gods were built _really_ weirdly and could his brain please do a little less thinking about Loki’s potentially bizarre genitalia and more thinking about escaping? 

Oh, and he was meant to be hating every second of this. 

Okay, so, if he _didn’t_ want to be sucking Loki’s cock, he would… 

Tony set his feet firmly against the floor, knees up, and _pushed_ , trying to lift his torso up enough to get some leverage and toss Loki off. 

Nothing happened. 

And that just wasn’t _fair_ , because he _worked_ _out_ , dammit, especially since Steve had moved in, because _damn_ did Steve know how to make a guy feel inadequate. But either Loki was somehow avoiding the laws of physics or… 

No, he was definitely doing that. He must have had a greater mass but was less affected by Earth’s gravity, making him less movable without crushing Tony’s ribcage… 

It pained him to admit it, or was that heart-wrench just one hundred fifty pounds give or take of god sitting on his chest, and he would _never_ admit it to Bruce, but there were times when science had to take a back seat. This was one of those times. 

He tried to high-kick Loki in the back. His hamstring screamed and spasmed and he was pretty sure Natasha would have been able to do it, and why couldn’t he have Natasha’s legs? Well, starting with _she’d kill me for taking them_ and _I’ve never liked wearing fishnets but if I had those legs it’d be a crime not to,_ there were twelve reasons that he couldn’t have Natasha’s legs. On the other hand, if _she’d kill me with a back issue of_ Playboy _for taking them_ was a separate reason to _she’d kill me with that devastatingly sexy leg-strangling thing, and I’d have her legs so I’d be strangling myself with my own legs for taking them_ and so on,then the number of reasons grew to potentially infinity. 

If Natasha had been here, _she_ could have been the one torturing _Loki_ , and Tony could have sat in his cell with a hi-def TV and a bucket of popcorn and charged the other Avengers ten bucks each to come in, fifteen for Clint because he’d still have paid up. 

But he wasn’t meant to be thinking this, he was meant to be panicking and writhing, so he kicked up and back again, and again, but he didn’t hit Loki once and his leg was on fire, burning counterpoint to the coolness everywhere that Loki was touching him. He gave what he hoped was a desperate sob, muffled by the way his mouth was crammed full of Loki’s cock. In terms of keeping their captors amused, probably a success. 

He preferred the kind of success that ended up in explosions, personally. 

_If this goes south, like so far south it goes around the South Pole and starts going north again, just think about explosions_. 

Loki drew back and that cool swollen _long_ cock slid out from between his lips. Now was probably a good time to start begging. 

No, breathe. Breathing first. Breathing was good. Cool air down his abused throat, yes. Much better. 

_Now_ he could beg. 

“Please,” he coughed, and his throat rasped and protested like he had a bad case of flu. “Please don’t, don’t do this.” 

“Why not?” Loki’s eyes were glowing and he was smiling almost nicely like he really wanted to listen to Tony’s concerns. _Was_ he really listening? Was this his chance to give Loki directions for their game? 

But Loki had actually done pretty well so far, it was probably best to leave him in control and just go along with it, since Tony had fairly high odds of coming out alive at the end and Loki almost certainly knew way more about dominating than Tony knew about submitting. And hey, there weren’t any barrels of water in _this_ cell. 

“I don’t-” Let’s see, if _he_ put himself and Loki into a cell together hoping they’d maul each other to death creatively, what would he want to hear? “Please don’t hurt me.” 

“If you’ve done your job,” and Loki slid back down along his chest, bare calves pressed up against his ribs, “this won’t hurt. Much.” 

And then he was kneeling between Tony’s legs and lifting his hips up and pressing his cock to Tony’s asshole and if their captors weren’t getting off on this like there was no tomorrow then he was officially out of ideas because all he could feel was _pressure_ and _stretching_ and _cold_ as he gave way bit by bit. 

“No,” he gasped, pushing against the floor, scraping his hands, but Loki’s grip on his hips was firm and unyielding and he wasn’t going anywhere. “No, please, I’ll do anything-” 

“You’re doing exactly what I want. Begging and moaning where you belong.” 

And then Loki _slammed_ inside him and Tony screamed. 

~ 

Steve’s arms were aching, but the door still hadn’t budged an inch. He staggered back, breathing heavily. Brute force wouldn’t do it. 

He started looking for weak structural points instead. It was designed to slide sideways, so there were no hinges. All the exposed edges were covered. There was reinforcement everywhere he looked. 

He turned away, and met Thor’s eyes. The god had dropped to the floor after his failed attempt to summon his hammer, and had hardly moved since. “We are outmatched.” 

Steve nodded agreement, sweaty hair falling down into his eyes. “They were ready for us. Whoever they are.” They still hadn’t seen or even heard from their captors. Not one whit. The television screen, which was ridiculously large but still significantly smaller than most others Steve had seen in this century, had remained off this whole time. They’d woken up here perhaps an hour ago, and been coherent only for the last few minutes. Whatever they’d been drugged with must have been powerful, and tailored to them specifically. 

Whoever these people were, they had dangerous levels of information. Steve desperately wanted - needed - to know who they were. The Avengers couldn’t afford to have this kind of enemy. Somebody who knew all their weaknesses, somebody who attacked when they were under-manned, somebody who could break through Loki’s magic shield… 

“Do you think Loki was behind this?” 

Thor’s face fell, devastated. “I wish I could say not, but after what I have seen my brother do… I cannot predict him anymore.” When he raised his head, his eyes were full of tears and Steve was struck to the core by just how deeply Thor still cared. His brother may or may not have been responsible for their capture, and Thor was willing to cry in front of Steve over losing him like this. “It is possible. And yet he too may be a prisoner here.” 

“They’ve put us together. Maybe he’s with Tony.” 

_“Excellent guess!_ ”

Steve spun and Thor surged to his feet to face the television screen, suddenly bursting into life. It showed a man, unremarkable, brown hair, white skin, slight build, sitting in some kind of control room, screens and computers and other devices lining the walls. A second man, his back to the camera, was closely examining one of the screens. His elbows twitched, but whatever he was doing with his hands was blocked from sight. 

“ _Your brother,_ ” the man said, his accent strange and unfamiliar, with a nod to Thor, “ _is indeed with your compatriot_ ,” and he nodded right at Steve. So he could see them in return. “ _And, ah, well. What can I say? One of them’s having fun._ ” 

A chill ran down Steve’s spine and pooled in his stomach. That couldn’t mean anything good. Thor _growled_ , fists clenching, and took a step forward. Steve reached out a hand to grab his wrist. “Don’t. Don’t do anything. We still need information-” 

“ _Oh, it’s information you want, Captain? Let me make this easy for you_.” 

The screen blanked, and lit up again, and Steve had no idea what he was seeing. Tony, almost naked, hands twisted behind his back, pulled up so his hips were almost on top of Loki’s, who was still dressed - no, half-dressed, his legs bare. What were they- 

And then Tony _screamed_ , and it didn’t matter what the hell was going on, Loki was hurting him. Steve was _letting_ Loki hurt him. 

He turned to somehow get the door open. Thor was already trying, hurling himself against the steel. “ _LOKI!_ ” 

Steve spun back to the screen, looking at all the edges, looking for something that would tell him where they were. A window, a door, anything - anything that wasn’t the tears running down Tony’s cheeks, the agony on his face, and the joy on Loki’s, his head thrown back. There were no details to be found, though; their cell was just as bare as Steve’s own. Nothing. They could have been anywhere. Right next door or half the country away. Another country, even. 

Then Steve heard Tony’s voice again and this time it was even worse. Any man could feel pain, and there was no shame in screaming at it, but this… 

“ _Please - please stop - agh! Loki, please! Don’t, don’t, no!_ ”

To hear Tony broken by it, _begging_ Loki to stop… 

Thor turned away from the door and lunged at the screen, fists flying. Steve jumped into his path and grabbed at his arms, pushing him back. 

“No! We need - it’s the only way we can see our captors, we need to know who we’re dealing with!” 

Thor was _strong_ , stronger than anyone Steve had ever fought against, and it was taking all he had not to give any ground. He didn’t have to _win_ , just had to stop Thor, so he braced himself and leaned forward. He just had to not move. His muscles strained, his legs pushing against the floor, arms holding Thor back. He almost knocked them both over when Thor abruptly gave in, collapsing to the ground. 

“I never thought… the man I called _brother_ …” 

Steve gave Thor some space, carefully, and sat down. He made sure to be between Thor and the television. 

Steve flinched again at another scream. And Loki’s voice, now, hissing, “ _You dared defy me once, Stark. Where is your courage now? Giving in so easily?_ ” 

Steve shook his head. “That’s not Tony. Tony never gives in. Tony flew a missile through the portal, Tony’s stood up to _Fury_. Tony wouldn’t let… what _is_ that?” 

Thor looked up again, eyes bloody, tears now streaming openly down his cheeks. “You do not…” 

“I have no idea what Loki’s doing.” 

Thor’s voice came out low and rough. “Loki is raping him.” 

The world seemed to spin and he thought wildly that he owed Fury another ten dollars. How could a _man_ be… He’d never imagined… 

His stomach clenched like he was about to vomit. The physicality didn’t matter. The _word_ mattered, that word, that ugly word, and the other words flying from the screen with all the deadly accuracy of Hawkeye’s arrows. 

“ _No, don’t - fuck! No, god, no, stop - please, just stop-_ ”

“ _I told you once to kneel before me. You should have done it then._ ” 

And there was nothing Steve could do. Not one thing. 

He laid his head on his knees, pulled up tight to his chest, and wanted to die. 

~ 

Loki _gasped_ , immersed in heat, slick wet heat that leapt through his blood and set his head reeling, spinning until the world fell away. His fingers curled, holding Stark tighter, putting him just - right - _there -_ there, where his length was locked into clutching warmth, tight and firm, Stark’s skin burning under his hands, sharp bones of his hips letting Loki cling to him and never let him go. 

Stark had decided to cry now, his head turned sideways, face pushed into the stone. The great jerking sobs wracked his whole body and made him shudder and clench around Loki’s length, sending fire surging through him. It was as though _everything_ Stark did, fighting back, taking it, or anywhere in between, was somehow sensual, almost calculated to drive Loki closer and closer to the edge. 

Because, _oh_ , he was close. His head was light and whirling and Stark’s delicious heat was searing brilliantly through his body. It was a shame he had not had more privacy and time with Agent Barton, for if this was a sample of what the Midgardian male was capable of… Loki wanted _more_. 

And what Loki wanted, Loki _got_. 

And Stark gave, it seemed. Loki had been listening and watching, carefully, needing to avoid any permanent harm. Stark had to remain alive and well to get them _both_ out of here. But thus far, Stark had seemed to be acting. His cries were not quite _that_ desperate, his struggles were less than what he was capable of. 

Still, he was not faking _all_ of it. 

Stark was not faking the way his eyes were black with lust, pupils gaping wide until the brown ring around them was barely visible. Nor was he faking the airless moans that Loki’s thrusts drove from his body. They were delightful and consuming, that Stark wanted this, needed it, and Loki could hear his own gasps echoing Stark’s. But he almost hated it. 

Hated the way he had to _think_ through all of this. Hated how he could not just let himself go until he forgot both their names. Hated how this was an act on his part as well as Stark’s. 

“I wonder why you’re not fighting back?” Loki crooned. He had to be cruel. Had to hurt Stark in more ways than one. “Perhaps you don’t think you’re worth it. Perhaps you know you belong kneeling at my feet, pleasing your god.” 

Stark choked, and shook his head violently. “I’m going to _kill_ you, you bastard, don’t think I won’t, you’re going to die for this-” 

“Am I? What comfort will that give you, I wonder? Will my death erase my fingerprints from your skin? Clean my touch from your body?” Loki stabbed into him again, harder, deeper, making up for stopping for his speech. He had to concentrate. He could do both, if he thought about it. “No, Stark-” he thrust, “you will always - be mine. You’ll always know-” Stark was so _hot_ around him, flaring, “Loki of Asgard - had you. And…” He stilled, smiled for the cameras, and let his fingertips just barely touch Stark’s erection. Stark’s face contorted, tears abandoned, lips arched in a wide O of pleasure. He clenched down around Loki in turn, squeezing him, until Loki’s whole world narrowed to the throbbing flesh where he met Stark, the pulse of their heartbeats hammering into him. “You loved it.” 

Well. Wasn’t that something. 

He turned his hand around to ghost his fingernails down Stark’s length. He shuddered, and screamed, and bucked, hard, his whole back leaving the floor, nothing but his shoulders and Loki’s single hand on his hip holding him up. 

That _was_ something. 

Too much. Loki dug the nails of both hands into Stark’s chest, drawing blood, sinking deeper and deeper into that flesh, pinning him back to the floor, and leaned down to hiss in his ear. 

“Stop _enjoying_ it.” 

Stark’s breath hitched. “I… could say… the same.” 

Loki slapped him, the crack of skin on skin and skin on stone ringing out. Damn. Stark was right. He hadn’t been this aroused for longer than he could remember. This wasn’t merely a show anymore. They could turn the cameras off right now and he would just keep going, _harder_ , fucking Stark until neither of them could walk or _breathe_. Was he so desperate for companionship that this pathetic mortal could hold him in such thrall? 

He might have to revise his definition of _pathetic mortal_. 

He pulled back, all the way out, gasping as Stark’s tight muscle slid down his length, heat disappearing and the air feeling colder than it ever had. Stark gasped too, chest heaving, Loki’s hand rising and falling with it, nails still buried in the crescent-shaped cuts. 

Loki bent back down over him. “Tell me you have a plan.” 

He felt Stark’s grin as his lips brushed his ear. Oh, he wanted Stark to do that again, just that, again and again… “Of course I do.” 

“Well?” 

“Finish the fucking job and I’ll tell you.” 

Well. Why not? There was nothing Loki wanted more, and Stark was practically begging him for it. He breathed out a laugh. “As you wish.” 

And he slammed them together again, shouts ringing in his ears. 

~ 

“I will kill him.” 

Steve looked up. Thor still hadn’t moved; his head hung down, almost hidden behind his drawn-up knees. One arm was wrapped around his shins, and the other ended in a white-knuckled fist, pounding into the floor rhythmically. 

“I will kill him for this.” 

Steve thought of Clint. “Get in line.” 

Thor’s head rose. He didn’t look like a warrior now. He was weeping and tear-streaked, without hope or strength left. “Stark is still alive?” 

They both paused, listening, sorting out the wordless cries. Loki’s, low and sickening, nothing that Steve had ever imagined. And there were Tony’s, higher and pain-filled, likewise not even the stuff of Steve’s nightmares. 

Not until now. 

How could this still be happening? 

“He’s alive.” 

“If Stark dies… I will _not_ kill him. Death would be too kind. No, I will see him pay a hundredfold every iota of suffering he put Stark through. I will have his blood run over my hands, have him violated in every way imaginable, make _him_ scream and beg for mercy…” 

The cell was actually _shaking_ , like what an earthquake must feel like, shuddering back and forth and sending vibrations up Steve’s spine. 

“… watch him burn and freeze and burn again over eternities until he cannot even remember his own name…” 

Was Thor doing this? Or was it somehow natural? Coincidental? Were their captors somehow causing this? 

It almost seemed like the building was weeping in sympathy for Tony. 

“… sear the name of Tony Stark into his flesh so he cannot escape his crimes again…” 

One of the cameras fell from its mount. 

Steve finally turned to face the television, to see if the same thing was happening in the other cell. It was hard to tell whether the shaky view was the fault of a moving screen or a moving camera. _Both_ , Steve decided. Which meant that wherever Tony and Loki were, they were close enough that this tremor was reaching them too. 

Loki hadn’t even stopped. 

And if Steve could get there _right now_ , maybe it wasn’t too late. Tony was alive. Steve had to hold on to that. _While there’s life, there’s hope_. Tony was strong. He would walk away from this. 

And Steve would talk Thor into letting Tony kill Loki himself.


	4. Escape

It had taken him a seriously long time to realize that it wasn’t just Loki fucking him into the floor that was making the world move. That wasn’t exactly his fault, because he had never felt better in his life and every move Loki made just sent a rush like a hundred espresso shots through him until his hair was standing on end, absolutely had to be. He was fucking bleeding and it felt so good, raw and exposed and exponentially better than it should. 

Oh, yeah, world moving. 

If this was an earthquake, it was a damn long one, because the floor hadn’t been still against his back for the past… well, since Loki had touched him, actually, another newsflash from Tony Stark, king of accuracy, but it had probably been… minutes? Yeah, close enough. Fuck accuracy. 

And, in the name of accuracy, fuck Loki. _Please_. 

Because his head was reeling and he was sore all over and would probably be bruised in places he didn’t want to think about _and would Loki please fucking touch his cock again_ because he didn’t think he could take much more of this. Every thrust, every place Loki touched him made his skin chill right down to the bone and he just couldn’t get enough oxygen and he hoped the little cries of _please, please, please_ would be taken to mean _please stop_ because wasn’t he supposed to care about that or something? 

But his nerves were sizzling and he was being fucked _by a god_ and he was harder than he’d ever been in his life and if Loki didn’t get him off _right now_ he would explode and not in the various fun ways. 

And then those smooth cold fingertips _danced_ down his cock and that was it, he surged and came, moaning, utterly blind and deaf and feeling _nothing_ but the rolling waves taking him over until he was going to drown in it and he’d be grateful. 

 _Fuck, that’s good._  

He heard or maybe felt what might have been a laugh from Loki and it was probably a good idea for his long-term survival if the god got some as well and he clenched down around that cock in his ass, long and cold and painful in all the right ways, and Loki pressed them chest to chest and wrapped his arms around Tony’s shoulders and came with a shout. Tony felt it wash through him, getting everywhere, no really _everywhere_ , how much of that stuff did gods _make_ , and how the fuck could he still _think?_  

Loki collapsed, almost boneless. “Stark…” And that was Tony’s name, _Tony’s name_ a murmur draped across his lips like a wisp of silk and for a few seconds they both just shuddered together. 

 _Plan!_ Right. Plan. Plan for what? 

 _Escape._  

 _Don’t wanna escape_. Yeah, he could probably live a long and happy life if he never did anything but Loki again. 

Long and happy? No. He was dying. Only alive because of Loki’s magic. He needed his arc reactor back at the very minimum. 

Also, while he had no objection to sucking Loki off properly, he’d like to eat actual _food_ at some point. 

And why was the floor still moving? 

“Why’s the floor moving?” he mumbled into a faceful of Loki’s black hair. He had great hair. Tony opened his mouth, and stretched out his tongue to run the tip down one of those glistening strands. Smooth, and cold like the rest of him, a delicious line of cold down Tony’s tongue… 

He was _licking_ Loki’s hair. _Loki’s_ hair. Loki’s _hair_. 

This was either very wrong, or oh-so-right. 

“I don’t know,” Loki mumbled back. “But I finished the fucking job.” 

Blood rushed through his body and why had Loki stopped talking when he sounded _so_ _fucking hot_ when he talked dirty? 

Ah, no, those were _his_ words in Loki’s mouth. He’d told Loki to finish the fucking job so he could tell him… the plan. To escape. Oh, right, that plan. 

“We wait for them to open the door again, you throw your invisible magic cloak over us and we walk out.” 

Loki moved like he wanted to rear back and look him in the eyes but didn’t have the energy. He apparently didn’t even have the energy to pull out of Tony’s ass. 

Tony was one hundred percent okay with that. 

“That is it? That is your plan?” 

“The fucking was better,” Tony admitted. “But did you really expect me to think while you were doing _that?_ ” 

“ _Yes_.” 

“Oh. I, ah, might need some practice then.” 

“That will not be forthcoming. Immediately.” Loki shifted and Tony moaned as Loki’s cock was tugged out, leaving him raw and empty and wanting _more_ , dammit _, more_ , and why didn’t he have the stamina of a god because he wasn’t getting it up again for another _month_. 

“Remember, you still hate me,” Loki whispered, and then he was gone. 

Tony rolled over onto his stomach and hurt _everywhere_. Bruises all along his back from the floor, hands numb and bloodless, back of his head throbbing from slamming it backwards, face stinging from being slapped around, groin muscles sore from his legs being pushed so far apart, ass aching for the obvious reason, but _damn_ it felt good, all of it. And the lingering cold wherever Loki had touched him, there was just something about that, the way it left a trace of him behind like inky fingerprints except nobody but Tony could tell… 

“Look at you,” Loki spat, suddenly chill and controlled like he hadn’t just loved every second of the past… how long? _Fuck accuracy_. “You can’t even stand up. Does it _burn_ you to know how easily you’ve fallen? How _effortlessly_ I took you?” He rushed down towards Tony, and then his fingers, those beautiful cold fingers, were pushing between his chest and the floor and rubbing in the dozen bleeding cuts he’d made with his nails. 

Ten, ten cuts, unless he’d grown some extra thumbs when Tony hadn’t been looking. 

Loki’s hand vanished and Tony raised his head to follow it, and Loki licked the red streaks off his fingers, tongue dancing and curling around the white digits one by one, and that had better be something do to with the magic keeping him alive because otherwise it was… _unbe-fucking-lievably hot._  

Loki had put his pants back on at some point, and damn if the black leather wasn’t even sexier than those bare pale legs that went on and on and on… 

Loki kicked Tony’s jeans over to him, and he was pretty damn sure Loki hadn’t put his boots back on _which meant he’d never fucking taken them off in the first place_ and what even was this, who fucked with their shoes on? 

“Dress yourself,” Loki said and the words were _icy_ and Tony would have obeyed absolutely any command given in that voice. Had Loki even _tried_ to take over the world because _that voice_ had definitely not been involved because if Loki said _kneel_ in _that voice_ the only thing that anyone, _anyone_ , and most assuredly Tony fucking Stark would say was _how low?_  

Tony moved to grab his pants and _dress himself_ , ooh, and then his shoulders screamed and wrists burned. “Uh… not happening.” He raised his bound hands and shook them. Yeah, he was still tied up, and not panicking, apparently, which was pretty weird but probably the least weird thing going on right now. The list just kept growing, because there was the whole _captivity_ thing to start with, and then him and Loki fucking and enjoying the hell out of it, and then the floor was still vibrating, so really, being cool with having his hands a little restricted wasn’t really that big a deal right now. 

Loki _hmph_ ’d and how did he make that noise sound so sexy? Well, presumably the same way he made every other noise, and incidentally every movement, so sexy. Some rigorous scientific testing was in store here. 

Also, Tony wasn’t dead, and he now knew perfectly well that an invisible Loki could just walk past all the guards and security in the world. But he’d come back. For Tony. To keep him alive. To get them both out. Maybe the only reason Loki had been so evil was a desperate need to get laid. 

Loki sauntered over slowly, coat-thing swinging with every step, and bent down and unbuckled the belt, goddamn _finally_ , and then Tony’s hands _sprang_ apart, like actual spring tension, and _god_ his shoulders hurt and his elbows hurt and his wrists hurt and everywhere just fucking hurt and what would he not have given for Loki to kiss it better? 

Although Loki’s hands lingering right where his wrists hurt the most, that was nice. Like his own personal ice-pack. Because, oh yeah, skin-to-skin contact kept the magic working and shrapnel out of his heart and that was a _good thing_. Even without the added bonus of _hot Loki sex_ , because that was like every Christmas and whatever Norse festival Loki chose all coming at once. 

Heh. _All coming at once._ They’d have to try that sometime. 

His pants were back on, and when had that happened? 

And the floor was _still_ shaking. That was, what, maybe ten whole minutes that the entire cell, actually, had been shaking and they’d both managed to nearly completely ignore it? 

 _Damn, when a god fucks you, they_ fuck _you._  

~ 

Stark’s blood was singing. 

Loki could feel it, everywhere it had touched him, under his nails, etched into his fingerprints, along his tongue and down his throat and pooling in his stomach, the sheer _aliveness_ of the man as intoxicating as Asgard’s most potent mead. Or more. He could feel Stark himself, right across the cell, feel the blood calling to its divided… _brothers_. But he could also feel the shrapnel, still, held in place by the magic that crossed the bridge of blood. Touch was no longer necessary. If only he had discovered this earlier. It might have spared him the awkward other discovery that these minutes with Stark were among the best of his life. 

“Room - shaking,” Stark gasped, and dragged his knees beneath his chest. It was an improvement over being sprawled on his stomach, but he would surely not be standing any time soon.  

“Yes.” Despite its instability, it had not fallen on them yet, and therefore was unlikely to. Besides that, there was nothing they could do until the door opened. 

He had no wish to remain here any longer than necessary. Perhaps he could persuade their captors to open the door. Now that they knew what they _could_ get out of them, a threat to never give it again would bear weight. “I cannot believe I touched you.” Loki spat to one side and wiped his hands against his clothing. “Pathetic, sniveling creature. Take _comfort_ ,” and offered that with a hint of a bow, “that I am not of a mind to touch you again.” There. Now to see if that brought encouragement. 

Loki leaned his head back against the stone, still juddering unnaturally, and watched Stark through his barely-open eyelids. He was massaging his shoulders, arms crossed in front of him. Loki wanted to do it for him, work his fingers deep down into that muscle, feel Stark melt and moan and writhe beneath his touch once more, and without any need for pretended loathing on either side. 

 _I do what I want_. 

But not right now. He had supposedly raped Stark. No good to comfort his pains and destroy their charade. 

He closed his fingers around air instead, and waited for the door to open. It could not be long. 

Stark breathed heavily, and pushed himself further upright, sitting back on his heels, head up, _kneeling_ in that position Loki loved, and the door swung wide. _Perfect._ Stark spun and he staggered upright, nearly falling. Loki snarled andflunghimself across the room. Seized Stark, _hide, conceal, vanish_ them both under his magic, and had them past the guard before Stark had even found his own feet. 

“Right then,” he said, slipping one arm around Stark’s back to hold him upright. “Where to, O mastermind?” 

Stark’s words were slurred. “Steve an’ Thor. Might be somewhere. Find them.” 

“Yes, they are here. I saw them before. This way.” And he pulled Stark towards the room with the monitors. 

And, hopefully, their captors, whom he would kill quickly, as thanks for making this whole surprisingly satisfying arrangement necessary. 

~ 

When would this day just _fucking end?_  

They’d gone into another room and Loki had lowered him very gently to the floor and then there had been some quiet sort of thump noises and there were almost certainly two dead bodies on the floor now and would his head please kindly come back from Mercury? He’d pay postage and everything… 

Loki was muttering something to himself now, _doors, doors, release doors_ , and then he hit a button or a switch or fuck knew what and then he was back with Tony. 

“I would order you to get up,” and Tony hadn’t seen that smile before, the one that was amused by something not directly related to pain, “but I don’t think you’re capable of that right now.” And then the world spun again and his arm was over Loki’s shoulders and Loki’s arm was under _his_ shoulders and yeah, he could walk like this, as long as Loki didn’t ask him to count how many feet he had… 

_How many fingers am I holding up?_

_Dunno, how many hands did you cut them off of?_

Bad thoughts. Loki had gotten laid and therefore wasn’t evil anymore. That was complex moral theorizing, right there. _I just saved the world. Again_. 

“I don’t suppose you can sense where your arc reactor is?” 

Tony’s brains churned as he tried to understand the question, _sense? reactor? you?_ and apparently he was silent for too long because Loki said “Never mind,” and just kept walking them both down the hallway. “We shall find it. And then you will get us out of here.” 

Loki was still talking and that was probably important, or at least Tony assumed it was important, because he couldn’t actually hear him properly anymore and most of his other higher brain functions were slipping too, and he was supposed to be using his head to get them out but maybe he could borrow Loki’s instead because his didn’t seem to be working too well right now… 

~ 

Stark’s full weight sagged onto his arm. He must have been more injured than Loki had thought. “Damn,” he spat, and lay Stark down on the floor. Again. 

And nearly screamed as something crashed into him and pounded him into the wall. He choked, head reeling, staggering back up. He was invisible, who could see through- 

 _Thor_. 

Always. Every time. Always Thor. 

And then Thor’s hand was around his throat and closing like a vice. His hands flew up, grabbing at Thor’s wrist and fingers, fighting for breath through the agony. If he fainted then Stark died and they would never get out- 

“ _Thor!_ ” 

He wasn’t even sure the word made it past his lips. But he had to try, they had to the get the… “ _Arc reactor._ ” Did Thor even know what the arc reactor looked like? Did Loki? They needed _Stark_. 

His vision was going black around the edges, but the rage on his brother’s face was blinding. 

“ _Thor!_ ” And something ripped Thor’s hand away and he _gasped_ , sucking in breath, forcing the darkness back, his own hand flying to soothe the damage and the pain. 

“Tony first,” said that something, and it was the Midgardian captain, Rogers, with Stark slung in his arms. Loki reached out, for the blood, the magic, and almost swooned when he found it still intact. Stark still safe. Somebody to get them out of here. 

“ _Arc reactor_ ,” he wheezed, throat raw and burning with every breath. “He needs the arc reactor. Hole in his chest…” 

Rogers looked down and _saw_ the hole in Stark’s chest, and gaped. Without his helm, he looked younger, vulnerable. Not a soldier. Just a man holding a dying friend. 

But Stark wouldn’t have been dying if for once in his life Thor would just _listen_. 

“They took-” 

Thor’s hand cracked across his face, his whole face, and his head rang and swam and split as he hit the opposite wall and fell to the floor. “ _Speak none of your lies!_ ” 

Laughter dripped from his lips. “Not lies. He needs-” 

“Thor, he’s right. The arc reactor, I’ve seen it. I know what it does. He needs it back, now.” 

“Not lies,” Loki agreed. “They took it… somewhere. I don’t know where.” 

Rogers looked at him, crumpled down against the wall, looked at Thor, standing over him, hand still raised, looked at Stark, motionless in his arms. Then his gaze swept the three of them. “Stay here.” And he laid Stark down and ran back along the corridor. 

Loki raised a hand to his throbbing cheek and probed gingerly at the bones there. Nothing was broken, that was something. “To what do I owe this pleasure, brother?” 

Thor snarled and Loki’s head flew back, Thor’s hand fisted in his hair. “Do not think to escape justice for this! I have seen what you did - did to my companion, my brother in arms - a truer brother than you ever were to me. No, _Loki_ ,” and his name sounded like a curse, “this time you will _pay_ , in blood and more than blood, for what you did.” 

He had saved Stark’s life, and given both of them the best pleasure he, at least, had had in centuries. He might have known Thor would punish him the instant he found something he _enjoyed_. “Ask Stark if he agrees,” Loki whispered, forcing the air through a throat bent back almost to closing in on itself. He felt a grin floating at the edges of his lips. The laughter wouldn’t come, not with his neck so abused, but he felt it inside himself away. Untouched for Jotunheim, barely touched for Midgard, and then brought down for _saving_ Thor’s _brother_ ’ _s_ life. It was an impossibly stupid way to die. How like Thor. 

Something light hit the corner of his vision, and the glowing, no, blazing thing that Rogers was holding could only be the arc reactor. Loki relaxed against the wall for all Thor still had hold of him, and the stone was still. Had the arc reactor been causing the shuddering? Been driving power through the very structure of the building the way it drove power through Stark’s body? He didn’t understand this technology, he barely knew anything about it at all, and he wanted to learn. He wanted Stark to teach him everything. 

But he knew enough to know that when Rogers fitted it back into Stark’s chest, it meant he was safe. Stark would live. 

Stark would live. 

And if Loki died for that, at least it was something to die _for._  

~ 

His head was spinning and he had either thrown up already or was about to, but he could taste metal and coconut and that meant _he had the fucking reactor back, bitches!_  

“Loki,” he said, and stopped to refill his lungs. How could he get out only one word with two whole lungfuls of air? Either his lungs had shrunk or words had gotten bigger. “Loki, where did you-” 

“Be at ease, Stark, you are safe,” and that was Thor’s massively blond head smiling down at him and looking a shade more hungover than usual but he could deal with that. “Loki cannot harm you any longer.” 

He should have been able to make a pun on _longer_ , but couldn’t. That was probably the fault of the concussion that he totally didn’t have. Loki, he of the godly healing and other godly attributes, could do it for him. “Loki-” 

“Stark, you’re-” 

Loki was there and then he was not there, and Thor was not there either and there was a thump like something hitting the wall really hard and would everybody please stop moving? 

“Be thankful,” said Thor’s voice, low and menacing, and yes he was thankful, he was thankful for whatever Thor told him to be thankful for, “that you have not killed him.” 

“Killed him?” he said, because that made no sense. The overly-large words dribbled out over his lips and down his chin. How did that even work? “I haven’t done a single thing - well, actually, I did do things - a single thing that might kill him. Nobody ever died of a blowjob or any of the - rest of it.” 

“Tony, you’re concussed and in shock,” and that was Steve, good old Steve, who was also completely wrong because Tony was going to walk out of here on his own unknown number of feet and maybe Loki would help him again because that had been nice. 

“No I’m not, knot, hah, wood, tree, knot.” Slightly concussed then. “But Loki can magic me all better and I’ll be fine.” 

Thor’s voice was so loud that Tony couldn’t even make out any of the words. 

But Loki’s, ah, Loki’s voice was different, he loved Loki’s voice, but it was strange and rasping and… in pain? Why was Loki’s voice in pain? 

“For once in your life will you just listen to me?” 

“ _You will pay for what you have done!_ ” 

“Ask _him_. Ask _him_ what _I have done_.” 

Steve’s hand was hot as he turned his face upwards and sideways, to… oh, there Steve was. “Tony, you need to tell us, what did he do to you?” 

“Oh, Steve, it was fantastic,” Tony said, rushing to get the words out before he ran out of air again. “He made a magic arc reactor and kept the shrapnel out of my heart, and then he got those bash-happy guards to leave us alone by distracting the assholes - heh, asshole, that was nice - not _my_ asshole, the ones in charge, distracting them with our show. And he kept telling me to _stop enjoying it_ , but hey, if I get fucked by a god I’m going to enjoy every fucking second of it!” 

Someone hit someone else and there was a shout of pain, again, was that Loki again? Who was hurting Loki? But then Steve’s arms were around him and picking him up, and Steve was saying that they needed his help, needed him to work out the computers, to send a distress signal to SHIELD, or to anybody, to get them out of this facility. 

Tony wanted Loki back. But Loki wanted to get out too, so when Steve propped him up in a chair and pushed him over to a bank of computers, Tony typed, fingers stiff and cold and not bending properly at the knuckles, but he typed anyway, and when the computer finally beeped and said _message sent_ in a voice that wasn’t Jarvis’s but probably wasn’t meant to be, he stopped fighting. All of it, the concussion that he most certainly didn’t not have, the need to stay awake, the wanting to get back to Loki. 

The world spun again, and maybe the day was finally over. 

~ 

Since pinning him to the wall for the second time, Thor had not yet removed his hand from Loki’s throat, and would not until nothing less than a full _legion_ of Asgardian warriors was here to take him somewhere he would suffer appropriately. 

Or until Tony Stark returned, wielding a sword to execute Loki where he stood. That would suffice. 

He stared at Loki, for he found himself unable to look away, but all he truly saw was Stark’s face contorted in pain, Stark’s lips crying for mercy, Stark’s body bleeding and scored, Stark’s chest empty, his life-saving device stolen. 

Had Loki orchestrated this whole horror? Taken Stark’s arc reactor, and promised to return it if Stark didn’t fight back? Or was it simpler than that, the arc reactor nothing to Loki, Stark’s presence merely an opportunity for the kind of evil that Thor had never once thought him capable of? 

His fingers twitched tighter and Loki struggled against him, both hands wrapped around Thor’s wrist. Thor saw again those hands on Stark’s body, drawing blood, making mock of lovers’ caresses. Saw the gashes from Loki’s fingernails, deep enough to scar, saw Loki’s fingers bathe themselves in those wounds before he licked the blood from them like some delicacy. How could he ever have considered this creature his brother? How could he have defended him in Asgard’s court, pleaded with their father - no, _his_ father, his alone - for leniency? How could he have fought beside this, this monster, without knowing what would befall his _true_ brother? For the pain in his captain’s eyes alone, he should have ripped Loki’s lying tongue from his mouth. 

 _Loki raped him. Raped Tony Stark. Tony Stark who saved his whole world, who would have sacrificed himself for all of us, myself included. Loki raped him. And I did nothing_. 

He had merely satthere, unable to open the door, unable to summon Mjolnir, unable to break through the walls, while the false brother violated the true. He had done _nothing_ until the door had opened of its own accord and by then it had already been too late to stop Loki. All they had managed was to prevent Loki from taking Stark somewhere else. Mercy, truly, a victory of its own, and yet… 

To have sat by idly, nay, worse than idly, imprisoned, _unmanned_ , while such vileness went on was unthinkable. He had failed the one who had succeeded so mightily. Songs would be sung in Stark’s honor for his role in saving Midgard, yet Thor, prince of Asgard, who had dared to count himself Stark’s friend and ally, had been unable to save him. 

 _Curse_ Loki! 

He had promised himself that he would be merciful, that he would let Loki die, if Stark lived. He could hold himself to that. Eventually. 

He had not said _when_ he would kill him, after all.


	5. Innocence

Tony opened his eyes, and his brain was back from wherever it went when he was caffeine- or science-deprived for too long, his body wasn’t aching anymore, which apparently it had been because he was relieved that it wasn’t, and why should- 

 _Fuck, Loki, Loki and me, fucking. Are we still captured? Where_ - 

He forced his head upright, and his neck protested but Tony Stark was not a diplomatic entity and he made it obey him anyway. His vision swum like it was breaking Olympic records, but at least he could see. 

Well, fuck. _It’s never good when SHIELD medical straps you down_. 

Did the numbskulls not realize that he had just _escaped_ a captive situation? That he had somehow avoided thinking about Afghanistan almost completely _until this fucking moment, and he was stuck back in the desert again, just him and the sand, because he’d escaped and it hadn’t even done him any fucking good and could he just die now please_? 

Had Loki died too, just like Yinsen? The two of them, playing along for the watching captors, giving them just enough of what they wanted that they weren’t disturbed while doing what _they_ wanted for themselves. Had Loki died to save him too? 

He could see Yinsen’s face, whenever he thought about him, carved in crystal, unforgettable, the way his pain had slid away and left him in peace. That moment of dying breath that flew up past his ear, free. He had no such memory of Loki. 

No, Loki was all surging blood and those lovely cool hands, and tasting his hair, and then somebody hurting him, sounds of blows and cries of pain and _oh fuck no-_  

He fought back the tears, but they came anyway, and fuck it, there was nobody here to see. They _had_ killed Loki, killed him like they’d killed Yinsen, because Tony was too weak and too slow to get them out fast enough and there was always one more that he hadn’t killed yet, one more guard, one more friend, what did it matter, people _died_ around him, he’d sold death, he’d sold it _fucking wholesale_ , and here it was again, turning around and taking everything he cared about. 

He twisted, and slammed his face sideways into the pillow, and dammit but he wanted his neck to be more flexible so he could smother himself. 

~ 

Steve’s palms were sweating. It was useless to pretend they weren’t. He wiped them off on his jeans for possibly the fifth time. 

He and the others were still helping Clint through his recovery from Loki’s control. And that was difficult, and painful, and far from complete. Nevertheless, Steve didn’t think he would offend Clint in any way by saying that Tony would have it worse. 

Clint hadn’t had a choice in what he did. But Steve had seen it on the tape, the way Tony had held himself back from fighting, trying to save himself. 

Clint had done, more or less, what his regular duties for SHIELD consisted of, just for another person. This was never, never, meant to happen to Tony. Nothing of the sort. 

And Clint, if he ever had any self-doubts, could tell himself that he hadn’t wanted it. Not a bit of it. But Tony… Tony had been aroused at his own rape. He could never deny that there had been some part, some tiny, physiological, uncontrollable part, but a part of _him_ , that had enjoyed it. 

Steve scrubbed his hands through his hair. He did _not_ want to be here. But he was the only one Tony had. Clint and Natasha were still abroad on assignments, and couldn’t be pulled back for this. Steve had made the call not to tell Bruce anything until they had some good news about Tony’s recovery to offer alongside it. Thor refused to let Loki out of his sight - or out of his hand - and the last member of the Avengers… 

Was lying in this medical wing, alone, hurting, all because Steve was a coward and was failing him yet again. These weren’t stone walls and an immovable door he was dealing with this time. This was sheer and simple fear. The deep-down, gut-clawing fear that he would look into Tony’s eyes and Tony would start babbling about Loki again. _I’m going to enjoy every fucking second of it!_ Was that how Tony would deal with this? For the rest of his life? Convince himself it had been his own choice, under his control? 

Steve squared his shoulders. Well, if it was, he’d support him. 

He pushed the door open. 

Tony’s bed was right in front of him, Tony’s dark hair a contrast to everything else, his too-pale skin, the white pillow, mattress, and sheets. 

No, they in turn were contrasts to the heavy black restraints over Tony’s wrists and ankles. 

Steve swallowed panic. For an instant he saw Bucky, strapped down in the Hydra camp, the friend he had failed to save. He’d gotten him out, only to put him in harm’s way again, and lose him. 

The same thing would happen to Tony, he _knew_ it. It had been his duties as an Avenger that put him here, guarding Loki only a day ago, and as soon as he was well, or even earlier, he would get back into the suit and jump into the fight again. And one day Steve would fail him once more, and lose him just like he’d lost Bucky. 

“Steve!” 

He forced himself to smile and cross the ward. At least Tony sounded well. Pleased to see him. 

“Get me out of this, will you?” 

Steve looked at him. After how he’d spoken of Loki back in that facility, with a smile and almost with happiness in his voice, the restraints were there for a reason. “Don’t think I should do that just yet. Not sure about doctors now but, where I come from, they’re pretty touchy about people messing with their work.” 

Tony rolled his eyes, and his head rocked back and forth gently until he got it into a satisfying position, staring dead-on at him. “Steve, Steve, really, I’m fine. I’m alive, my head doesn’t hurt anymore, I’m not even concussed - try me! Hold up some fingers and have me count them.” 

He wasn’t talking about Loki. Steve was happy to oblige. _Three._  

Tony grinned. “Eighteen. Hah. I’m lying. Three.” 

Then his face twitched, and the grin faded. _Lying_. Steve knew that the next words out of Tony’s mouth would be- 

“Where’s Loki?” 

Steve inhaled, and exhaled. _Neutral language_ , Clint’s SHIELD therapist had advised them. _Don’t judge. Just listen. If you want him to talk to you, he needs to want to talk to you_. Much the same would apply to Tony. 

“He’s with Thor.” 

“Oh. That’s good. That’s good. Thor’ll keep him safe, right? Nobody’s going to touch him with Thor around.” 

Steve nodded. It was, in the literal sense, true. 

“I thought he was dead,” Tony whispered, and Steve’s heart almost broke. “Just like Yinsen. I escaped captivity once, but my friend, the guy who helped me, kept me strong, kept me alive, he died. Saving me. And I thought the same thing had happened to Loki.” 

“Loki didn’t-” _save you, he raped you and forced Thor and me to watch!_ He bit his tongue. Hard. Neutral language. “Die. It’s just like I said. He’s with Thor.” 

“Thank God,” Tony said, and that was it. Steve’s heart was gone, and he knew he would bleed to death if he had to watch Tony be relieved that Loki was alive. Who was this Yinsen that he compared to Loki? An honest ally, conflated with Loki because that was Tony’s method of coping? Or another torturer, Heaven forbid another rapist, and Tony thought of them _both_ as saving him? 

Bleed, drown, suffocate, whatever, so long as Steve _died_ and didn’t have to see the light in Tony’s face. 

If Thor didn’t kill Loki soon, Steve would. And then pray for a miracle, just so he could kill him again. 

~ 

Something wasn’t right. Tony could feel it in his bones, in his blood, in the shrapnel that Loki had saved him from. Steve didn’t avoid awkward topics. He brought them up and dismissed them rapidly, thoroughly, and in this manner that declared they never needed to be discussed again. 

So why was he dodging any mention of what had happened… yesterday? Call it yesterday, close enough and probably also true. Steve just kept telling him that Loki was with Thor. 

Tony wanted Loki here. Now. Needed proof, now that he’d fucking thought of Yinsen, that Steve wasn’t lying to him. That Loki hadn’t been left somewhere, dead and abandoned and unburied. Even dead, he deserved more than that. 

Tony still hurt from the beatings the guard had given him but the first time one had come in Loki had risen smoothly and stepped between Tony and the guard like all he wanted to do was protect him. And when he’d dropped to the floor from a blow that had made Tony’s head ring in sympathy, he’d just turned right back and started to get up again, and would have if the guard hadn’t left first. 

Loki had defended him. And maybe he’d needed Tony’s help to escape and maybe there’d been some element of revenge in there because Tony had blown up his entire army, but there had been absolutely no need to do what he’d done. To stand in front of Tony and take the punch meant for him. 

Tony had told him _three days_ , three days until the shrapnel killed him, and they’d escaped in way less time than that, so Loki hadn’t needed to use his magic at all. To escape. To keep him alive for other reasons, well, sure that could include a more drawn-out torture at Loki’s leisure, but it could also include… something. Something that had fueled Loki’s massive hard-on and had made him whisper Tony’s name after he came. Something that had _explained_ the plan, and not just gone ahead with the rape-to-please-the-guys-on-the-other-end-of-the-camera, especially considering that ignorance of the plan would have been more convincing. Loki felt _something_. An emotion. Tony had no idea exactly which. But one of them. Tony wasn’t the expert on emotions. Neither was Loki. 

Sounded like a match made in heaven. Or Valhalla. Or both. Or neither, because he seriously, no way did heaven wait for either of them. But that was okay. Tony Stark was the kind of guy who’d turn hell into another branch of Stark Industries and have the fallen souls turning out tech. Loki would simply stab Satan in the back and rule it within twenty minutes. 

 _Oh, be generous. Ten._  

“I want to see him,” he said. “Loki.” 

Steve _flinched_ , and what the hell was up with that? “Tony… I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“I think it’s a great idea, I want to make sure he’s not dead, and thank him for keeping me alive. Next time I lose the arc reactor, I have all that time to live because of him. Come on, he got laid, he’s not evil anymore.” 

Steve slammed his hand down on the bed beside Tony’s and even only hitting a mattress, it was loud. “He did not _get laid!_ Tony _,_ he _raped you_ and he…” 

Whoa, no, so much was wrong with that sentence, starting with how did Steve know they’d done anything resembling- 

“He forced me and Thor to watch!” 

“What? How does that even work? You weren’t there!” 

“The _cameras_ , you must have seen them, they sent the feed to our cell and we had to _watch_ you and _hear_ you, hear you scream and beg for it to end and we couldn’t get out, couldn’t get to you, couldn’t save you, he raped you right in front of us and there was nothing we could do…” 

“Oh. Fuck.” Because wasn’t this the fuckall of fucked moments? They’d been trying so hard to fool their captors, but Tony hadn’t thought even once about anyone else watching that film. Damn, it must have looked pretty bad, they’d both made it look as bad as they could. Thor, too? Oh, fuck, and how many SHIELD agents would have seen it by now? 

Steve was _crying_. “Oh, Steve.” He reached over - or would have, if he hadn’t been strapped down, and now it was clear why that was happening, they thought he’d been turned by Loki into believing he was good. In their eyes Tony was a rape victim championing his attacker and oh god, but that was an awful place to be when he totally wasn’t one. Everything he’d said about how Loki had saved him had been another nail in his coffin. “Steve, it isn’t what you thought. What you think. Dammit. I can explain, I swear, I can explain everything-” Wait, wait, _me and Thor?_  

_Oh, FUCK!_

_Where’s Loki?_

_He’s with Thor._

He thrashed and jerked and pulled, dammit, these restraints were government issue, they had to be cheap and degraded, it was practically a universal law that he should be _free by now and running to save Loki from the biggest misunderstanding he’d ever-_  

“Steve, listen to me, please, you have to listen,” and hadn’t Loki said the exact same thing in his beautiful voice, cool and arch, begging Thor to just _listen?_ “Please, it was a ruse, all a ruse, we were just pretending, you know that right, they were watching and Loki needed to get close to me to hold the shrapnel still, and they’d broken us apart the last times we’d gotten close and he said that maybe they wouldn’t interrupt if it looked like we’d turned on each other, _pleasegoddammit_ Steve, we planned the whole thing, he _asked_ me, I _thought_ about this, I told him it was okay! I knew what I was getting myself into, really, I did, it was nothing I hadn’t done before, sex with a guy, I know it’s not a thing that you’re used to but in this time period it’s practically normal, _please_ Steve, _listen to me!_ ” 

“And you never thought,” said Steve through his tears, and he’d never meant to make Steve cry, “that the guy who threw you out of a window might have been lying? Might have been making the whole thing up?” 

 _Nobody lies that well_. But he couldn’t tell him that, couldn’t tell him how nobody could lie with their body like that, how nobody had control of what they whispered when they came, how Tony’s name had been the first thing on Loki’s lips, how those fingers had been graceful and gentle and he’d _told him what he was planning, what more proof did Steve_ need _, what kind of revenge was it if the victim thought it was all an act and you didn’t mean a bit of it?_ “I made a choice. I trusted him. It was _my_ choice. Go back and look at the tapes, really look, they’ll have lip-readers at SHIELD somewhere, they’ll tell you exactly what I’m telling you now.” 

“Tony. Does any of this sound familiar to you?” 

“Well, yeah, I just said it, of course it’s-” 

“It’s exactly what Clint’s described to us. What Loki asked him to do. Blow up the helicarrier’s engine. Shoot Fury. It all sounded reasonable. Perfectly reasonable.” 

“Dammit, he wasn’t hiding the scepter in his pants! Steve, _please_ , listen. Please.” 

It was the softly-spoken word, almost a whisper, that got through, that got Steve to actually stop, to really _look_ at Tony, when all of his desperate shouts had failed. “Please. I’m asking you to trust me. And yeah, I understand that’s difficult, so I’m going to give you some phone numbers. One of them is for Pepper Potts, who I trust so much that I gave her my entire company, my dad’s company. And one of them is Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes, who picked me up after I was held prisoner in Afghanistan for three months. Talk to them. They’ve known me longer than anybody else alive. _Or_ dead. Tell them…” 

He sucked in a breath, because it really should have come from his mouth, but he needed Steve’s trust in him more. “Tell them what happened - not what _you think_ happened, just tell them what you _saw_ , and ask them to judge. Or at least, tell them what I think happened too. They know me. They know that I am a strong, independent adult, with enough sexual experience to know exactly what I was getting myself into, and they know that I have never, ever, stood up for someone that didn’t deserve it. That I actually pretty rarely stand up for anybody. That I have a record of publicly humiliating if not outright destroying people who rub me the wrong way. And they’ll tell you what it means that I am standing up for Loki now.” 

Steve seemed to have deflated softly, sinking back into his chair. One hand reached out for Tony’s and settled over it, heavy and warm. Completely unlike Loki’s hands, and yet. He got it. Steve was trying to keep him safe too. 

He could imagine, if he’d seen Loki and _Steve_ doing that, and then Steve had come to him and said it was all just for the cameras, he’d feel… 

Upset. Dirty. Saddened. But he’d _trust_ Steve. He’d say _I’m glad you’re okay_. He’d make sure that he really was okay, and when he was sure, he’d let it go. He’d trust Steve to make his own choices. 

“This was my choice,” Tony said softly. “Please. I’m asking you to respect it.” 

~ 

 _This was my choice_. 

How could Tony have reached through time to pull those near-exact words out of Peggy’s mouth? Trying to tell him that it wasn’t his fault Bucky had died, that Bucky had made his _choice_. He had known the risks, known the dangers; he’d been a soldier on the front lines. An actual soldier, not a _dancing monkey_. He’d known far better than Steve had. 

And then his own mouth again, even as Peggy tried to talk him out of it. 

 _We can work this out_. 

 _It’s my choice_. 

 _I’m asking you to respect it_. 

He believed Tony about so many other things already. He’d believed him first on the helicarrier, when he’d gone looking for what Fury was hiding from them. What Tony had convinced him Fury was hiding. He’d believed him about the seventy years of progress that had passed him over. He’d believed him when he’d showed him things Steve _knew_ to be impossible, computers that talkedand planes that went faster than the sound they made and the way they’d won the war in the first place. He believed so much, and Tony had never, _ever_ lied to him. Not about something important. 

Sure, they pulled pranks, but he was used to that, recognized the need to find something fun and lighthearted in their lives. And if convincing him when he was lost and exhausted that Natasha’s room was actually his and _you should go in, actually, you look a little tired_ , made their lives easier, he was okay with that. 

But after he’d stepped over that threshold Tony had grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back and confessed all. He’d _never_ lied in the first place about anything remotely more important than sending him into Natasha’s room by mistake. 

So why would he have started now? 

_My choice._

Steve shook his head and almost started crying again. Tony was right. Right about everything. He’d flown a missile into another part of the universe for them. What kind of person could do that but _not_ admit to being raped? 

 _Of course they fooled me if they were_ trying _to fool whoever was watching. Of course they tried to make it look real_. 

And what did he know about what rape looked like anyways? He hadn’t even known that was what was happening until Thor had told him. 

Ultimately, Steve hadn’t been there. Tony had. 

Tony _and_ Loki. 

“Thor-” Steve blurted. “Thor’s going to kill him.” 

Tony flinched and started to fight the restraints again. “ _What?_ ” 

“Oh. Back up. I believe you. I’m sorry. I should have believed you from the start. And I’ve heard it from you, but Thor’s only heard it from Loki, and I was with him when he vowed to kill him. Thor. To kill Loki. For what - we _thought_ \- he did.” 

Tony’s eyes went wide, but his voice was firm and steady as he said, “Get me out of here.” 

Steve seized the first strap, and worked the fabric through the buckle. 

~ 

“I need to sit down.” 

It had taken him all night and most of the morning to admit it, but he was tired. Exhausted. He had stopped thinking about the magic, ignored it entirely, and it had kept pulling and he had kept pushing without even realizing. Keeping Stark alive had been harder than he’d known at the time, and when he’d finally been able to stop, his reserves had been drained. And, like always, that was only half of the problem. 

The other half was that he’d been standing up for the past perhaps eighteen hours, nearly stapled to the wall, and he was tired. 

Thor’s face barely moved. Stony rage suited him well. _Do I look to be in a gaming mood_? “I will not release you.” 

“I don’t care,” and really, he didn’t. “I’m going to whether you move your hand or not.” _I don’t threaten_. That was his voice. And it was true once more. It didn’t matter if he choked himself on Thor’s hand around his neck. His legs would not support him any longer. 

 _Yes, there they go_. 

He sucked in one last breath as they folded beneath him and his neck slid an inch through Thor’s grip before fingers met jaw. His body sagged and his neck burned, holding up nearly his whole weight, but he didn’t _care_. He couldn’t stand up for another moment. It felt _good_ to hurt somewhere new. Somewhere that wasn’t his legs or his heart, poisoned by angry words and renouncement when he had _saved_ Thor’s precious- 

“Thor, let him go.” 

“How can you ask me to-” 

“ _Now!_ ” 

Loki’s eyes flickered back open. That voice had presence. A necessity for any battlefield commander. And Thor, like the good soldier he was, obeyed. 

Loki crumpled to another floor with another wall at his back, and sucked in air and let himself finally rest. His bared neck ached, and his head swayed slightly without Thor’s support. _Oh_ , the chill in the floor felt good, soothing the ache and tension through his legs. Hah. Grateful for a cold floor. _I should save people less often, if this is what comes of it_. How did Thor stand it? 

“Loki?” 

Stark’s voice? He forced his eyes open again. He didn’t remember them closing. “Stark! Did they find-” But there it was, burning with captured fire, the power of the gods humming right there in his chest. “You’re alive.” 

He grinned, bright and fierce and strong. “Too right.” 

“Thor,” said the captain, stepping up behind Thor’s shoulder, and he was so tall that even from down here Loki could still see his face over Thor’s muscle. “We need to talk.” 

“I am going nowhere.” 

“Fine. Then I’ll tell you right here. Loki’s innocent.” 

 _Innocent._  

Well. He’d been called many things, but innocent had never been one of them. He stood innocent of _this_ crime, yes, but not of many others. 

 _Blood spilled, and not reclaimed_. This crime, this one right now, was the important one. The others were in the past, some decades or even centuries ago. For this moment, this one shining moment, he could be _innocent_. 

“We set it up,” Stark said, and stepped forward to come between Thor and Loki. Thor snarled, and raised his hand to push him aside. 

“Don’t, Stark,” Loki gasped. He would be pounded against the wall, Thor’s blows would kill him by accident, by mistake, everything he’d tried to make stop back in their cell. He could not let Thor break this man, this man who held star fire in his hands, in his chest, a bare finger’s width from his _heart_ , this man who had made him feel something other than rage and hate and jealousy. He’d felt _warm_. “Don’t.” 

Stark had grabbed hold of Thor’s wrist as if it would make a single shred of difference to Thor’s blow. “If he wants to slam the guy defending his brother, fine. Let him. And we’ll still be here when he realizes what he’s done.” 

“What _I_ have-” 

“ _We set it up_ ,” Stark said, even louder than Thor. “Loki and I, we set it up. He used his magic to keep me alive, but he needed to touch me. And the guards kept breaking us up. Hard.” He touched at a purpling, swollen place almost hidden by his hair. When had that happened to him? “So we decided to try the one thing they might _like_ watching us do. It’s not that weird, surely you’ve known wackos who like watching their prisoners suffer.” 

“Loki has no magic beyond what the Allfather allowed him. There were no healing spells.” 

“It was not a healing spell. I just held the metal still. Very basic. Doubtless forgotten in the binding.” He would not correct Thor’s misunderstanding - his magic lay in quantity, not individual spells. Likewise, he would not mention the stolen increase in that quantity. He would not use it, either, for that would draw unwanted attention. But it was nice to have one thing that Odin did not know about. 

“He saved my life. And the rape? Staged. Faked. I had to stop myself from laughing, half the time.” 

 _That_ was not true. But it was a close enough substitute for the literal truth that Stark wanted to avoid. That half the time - or a good deal more than half - he had forced himself to say _no_ instead of _yes_. Loki had seen the ghost of that word once, his lips sketching the shape out, the sound itself still lodged somewhere in the part of him that had known their enemy was watching.

And Stark had meant it enough to stand before Loki now, to protect him from Thor without a care for what Thor could have done to him as he did so.

Stark was defending Loki. _Loki_. 

It almost felt warmer than his touch.

“So let him up and thank him for saving my life, huh? And maybe apologize for all the throttling.” 

And Stark stepped aside. 

 _Deftly_ done. Loki swallowed his grin. Thor could not refuse such a request from such a man. About the only thing he could have done better was sworn on his honor. Well, he was still Midgardian, after all. And he doubted Stark qualified for _anyone’s_ definition of honor. Courage, yes, loyalty, yes, but honor? That stupid thing that would have stopped either of them from the act that led to their escape? What was the use of that? 

Thor’s hand stretched down and Loki took the same fingers that had been around this neck bare minutes earlier. He avoided Thor’s gaze as Thor avoided his, pretending to brush the dirt out of his garments. The floor he had recently occupied was spotless, but it gave him an excuse to not see whatever emotions Thor was pouring out. Regret, probably, and shame. 

“Loki,” Thor said through what sounded like a very tight throat, as though _Loki_ had choked _him_. “I am sorry. I should have listened to you.” 

“You should have,” Loki agreed, but without the sting that he might have put into it. “Promise me that next time you’ll try.” And where had that come from? Stark was turning him soft. But he could need Thor to listen, one day. To spare his life. For the right or wrong reasons. He met Thor’s eyes at last, and managed not to scowl at the tears hanging in the corners. Did he think being mistrusted was something new for Loki? The only thing remarkable here was that Thor had come to believe him at all. 

That was remarkable indeed. Perhaps Thor had not abandoned Loki completely. 

“How could I have judged you so?” 

Loki’s eyebrows quirked upwards. “Oh, but it’s quite the compliment to me, is it not? That I fooled so utterly one who knows me so well?” 

“Only you, Loki,” Thor said, shaking his head and smiling softly, “could construe this as a compliment.” And that was almost _fond_. 

And Thor would not kill him today. 

Quite the victory, to come out with both Stark _and_ Thor beside him. 

~ 

He shouldn’t have listened to Steve. 

He’d drunk in the lovely bit about how _I believe you_ and _I should have believed you from the start_ and _I’m sorry_ and then he’d swallowed the rest too, which had been _I’m taking you back to Medical_ and _I really want you to lie down_ and then a long list of his injuries that had probably been supposed to make him feel like an invalid but had actually just made him want to cry because every time Steve said something like _bruise_ or _laceration_ or _fracture_ or even _kidney_ he looked so _miserable_. 

But he shouldn’t have listened because Steve came from the hell that had existed before smartphones, or StarkPhones, which were even more integral to the continued functioning of the universe, if he did say so himself. 

He did. Because no-one else would say it. 

But _Steve_ likely had no problems with being stuck in a bed for hours on end with a humorless nurse who was about seventy and looked like an ex-Navy SEAL, and this was SHIELD so he probably _was_ an ex-Navy SEAL. No, Steve would be just peachy. 

Tony was decidedly… kumquaty. Tamarindy, even. He felt as awful as that sounded. He was _bored_. 

He was bored with _nothing to blow up_. He should have stayed in that cell with Loki screwing his brains out. 

“Stark.” 

Speak of the devil. God. Yeah, Tony definitely preferred the idea of getting boned by a god. He stood in the doorway, tall and elegant in leather and nothing but, with absolutely no sign of strangulation. For one thing, he was still alive. 

“Loki. Glad to see Thor didn’t kill you after I left.” 

“Oh, no, he’s being terribly repentant. Again. It is rather nice, but I wish he’d stop doing things he has to apologize for.” 

“Don’t we all? The morning after Hulk beat up my floor with your ass, Thor set three toasters on fire trying to cook Pop Tarts. I’ve been over the surveillance tapes twenty-six times and I still don’t know how he did it.” 

“Perhaps mixing raw lightning with your Midgardian technology that relies on enslaved lightning is a poor idea.” 

 _Lightning, meet toaster. Toaster, meet lightning. Can you say overload_? “Ohh,” Tony said. “That would explain why the light bulbs, waffle maker, pool heater, TV and all of the thirty-eighth floor also caught fire when he was around.” 

“Very likely.” Loki settled into the chair recently vacated by Steve, graceful and composed, way more composed than Tony was feeling right now, because he was stuck in some hospital bed in a stupid medical gown and they’d stolen his phone and he hadn’t even gotten a shower yet, but Loki looked immaculate and gorgeous and was still together enough to come up with such great ideas as that one. Thor was a thunder god, of _course_ he would cause overloads in nearby electrical equipment, and how had Tony not thought of that for himself? 

This was _exactly_ why having Loki around was a good idea. 

“It’s amazing it didn’t happen more often than it did. God, I need you.” 

Blink. One of those combo emotions again, pleased/surprised. “You are not too injured from our last encounter?” 

“What? Oh, sex. No. Not that. Not until I find some _real_ lube and deeper mattresses in this hospital, anyway, because _ow_. No, I want your head. Your magic. Your everything. The way you see the universe, totally new thoughts that I’ve never even approximated before. I don’t even know, but I _think_ you generated a magnetic field in my chest to keep the shrapnel still. That field is exactly what this,” and he tapped the arc reactor, and it felt so good to have it back, to be able to touch it again, “powers. You took this,” and he ran his finger around the edge of the housing, the exact same path that Loki’s fingers had followed less than a day ago, “and had it there-” hand “-and there-” head “-and I don’t even know where.” 

“Oh, but you’re what’s so impressive,” said Loki softly, staring, _enraptured_. “You take the learning and study of centuries, mental discipline and self-sacrifice, and you put it in a… a _jar_. To serve _one purpose_.” 

“Two, two, it powers the suit as well.” 

“ _Two_ purposes. You make it seem so little. And it becomes little. You could have a thousand of these. You could rule this planet as I tried to do. And yet you don’t. That’s almost more amazing than your science. You have power at your fingertips, power resting _in your palms_ , all you need do is close your hands…” He did so, those pale fingers folding up like flower petals. “And take it. And you don’t. You just don’t.” 

Yeah, Loki probably knew a lot about seizing power. So did Tony. “I did, once. I had it, I had it all. And a lot of people died. Good people. People who were nothing to do with me. Who would have lived if not for me. They died because I couldn’t control what I was doing. It got away from me. It didn’t matter that I didn’t want that, it happened anyway. Because of me. And when I realized that, I realized that wasn’t the man I wanted to be. So I let it go.” _I razed it to the ground._  

Loki was silent for a long moment. His eyes were dark and he was thousand-yard staring through his hands, resting closed on his thighs. “What if it had been too late? What if it had already been seared into your skin? Burning so deeply that to release it would be to leave half your flesh behind?” 

Tony shook his head. “It’s never too late. You’ve just got to be willing to let go. To tear away, cut away if necessary. To leave something behind. Hopefully not half your flesh, but if that’s what it takes…” He dared to reach out, and take Loki’s hand in his. The fingers uncurled, and folded back around his hand, long and cold and beautiful and there was hope here, because Loki couldn’t be just an evil nutcase if he was holding Tony’s hand while they were talking about _giving up_ evil. “Trust me. I’ve been there. I _am_ there. And it’s never too late.” 

Loki’s hand tightened, just for an instant, and hey, maybe he’d saved the world again. 

Well, no, because Loki had hardly put the whole world in actual danger, and it wasn’t like he’d been going to get another chance anyway. But saving Loki. Yeah. That he could deal with. 

Because Loki wasn’t just the failed invasion. Loki could actually be _kind_ and clever and had saved him. “I’d honestly like to work with you. It might save my life one day, if I can generate my own magic magnetic field.” 

“One day,” and Loki stood up, all long limbs and grace and green and black leather, and he was leaving and Tony might never see him again. But he couldn’t let him go, not like this, so he drew Loki’s hand up and kissed it, letting his lips memorize the ripple of his tendons, the coolness like stepping into a pool on a hot summer’s day. And he was probably going to get himself killed but at least he’d die happy. 

And Loki drew Tony’s hand up to _his_ lips, and because he could never let anyone get the last word in and always had to one-up them, and who did that remind Tony of, he flipped it over and kissed the open palm and Tony memorized that, too, the smooth double arch of his lips, the faintest puff of cool breath in the centre. And Loki’s eyes, bright green fixed on his, told him that Loki was memorizing just as hard. 

“I am sorry I hurt you.” 

“I’m still alive. I’m not.” 

Loki huffed a laugh. Then he rushed down towards him, and _oh god_ Loki was kissing him, he was kissing Loki, and his lips were cold and soft and perfect, sending chills up Tony’s teeth where they brushed together. He raised his free hand and tangled it in Loki’s hair, holding him still, keeping him with Tony because if there was anything he could do to make this never end then he was damn well going to do it. Loki’s lips kept moving, around and between and always _on_ Tony’s, and Tony moved in return, taking more, more, _more_ … 

He gasped for breath when Loki pulled back, and opened his eyes to see Loki smiling softly, his lips flushed and parted. Slowly, Tony pulled his hand away, Loki’s hair sliding through his fingers, and let it drop back next to him. Loki still held his other hand, the hand he’d kissed, and Tony could feel that touch lingering, an inch across the palm with just a hint of pressure on it, and that proved that even if Loki was leaving, this hadn’t been just for the sake of the escape plan, something else had happened here. 

And those perfect lips quirked, and _that_ was a smile he would see reflected in his screens at three a.m. when he was wishing desperately for a magic solution to an engineering problem. 

“To letting go.” 

“And finding something better to hold on to.” 

Their fingers tightened ever so slightly, so little that Tony wouldn’t have felt Loki’s move if his hadn’t moved at the same instant, and wasn’t that a metaphor for something deep and meaningful and didn’t it make him sick. 

Then Loki dropped his hand and walked away, leather coat swaying, steps long but slow like he didn’t want to be going either. He stopped at the door and turned back, and maybe he was going to stay after all. “One day,” he said again, eyes locked on Tony’s, intense and serious and promising him everything, and that would have to be enough, because then Loki took another step and vanished down the hall. But Tony was _alive_ , gloriously, wondrously _alive_ , and in all the days that he didn’t have Loki’s hand to hold on to he would hold on to Loki’s _one day_ instead, and wait for the return of somebody who was at least as broken as he was. 

Hmm. Not was. _Had been_ , for sure. But not was. Not anymore. 

He sighed. There went everything interesting in this entire SHIELD facility. He’d have to take the risk of harassing his ex-Navy SEAL nurse for the return of his phone. 

~ 

Thor stared at Mjolnir’s head, eyes fixed on the uppermost rectangular face, tracing and retracing the eternal knot that Odin had woven there. 

 _Worthy_. 

He had believed his own brother guilty of rape. Believed utterly, without waiting for one word from his mouth in his own defense. Had not listened to those words when they finally came. Had forsworn him, vowed to torture and maim and slay him only in _mercy_. All those times he had declared to Loki that they were brothers still, that their mutual upbringing meant more than their stranger’s blood, and yet he had betrayed Loki at the first opportunity. The promises he had made clearly meant nothing to him. Could Thor dare to call himself Loki’s brother after this? What kind of brother would not even consider the possibility that things were not as they seemed? 

_Loki is the finest liar in the Nine Realms. Why did I not think once that this might be a lie?_

Loki’s voice echoed in his ears, made rough and harsh by Thor’s hand gripping his throat. _Listen to me!_ Thor had not. Not in the slightest. All night he had stood there with Loki captured in his hand, and he had ignored every word that Loki had tried to say. Had even tightened his fingers to cut those words off. He could have killed Loki just for speaking to him. Speaking the _truth_. 

If this was how Thor, future king of Asgard, thought to dispense justice, he should take Mjolnir to his own head and let Loki ascend the throne, for whatever his past actions, his rule would surely be better than Thor’s. The people deserved a king who would _think_ , who would seek out all the facts before making a judgment, who would listen to all sides of the tale. And if Thor could not do that for even his own brother, how could he do it for any of his subjects? 

He knew Loki was there before he heard him. Those footsteps had come up behind him too many times to be missed, despite their silence. They were soft, careful, and almost delicate, and he never stepped anywhere he did not want to. Thor claimed to know him so well. How could he not have trusted Loki, trusted himself? 

“I have failed you. Again.” 

Loki sat down next to him. The last time they had sat side-by-side like this, the day of his aborted coronation, Loki had offered comfort after Thor’s world had been shattered. And had been ignored in favor of Thor’s own rash plans of action. 

Never again. From this moment forward, no matter how angry he was, no matter how suspicious it seemed, he would at least listen to every word that Loki offered him. 

If Loki ever spoke to him again, that was. 

“I disagree. As usual.” 

“Indeed.” 

“You brought me here to Midgard to see what I had done. What I had ruined. You failed in that, by the by. Miserably.” 

 _I just swore to listen. To every word. Especially when he is right_. 

“But I found something else. Something better. I found something that I should be sorry to lose, something that shall make me think twice if Midgard’s conquest is ever offered me again. And thrice, and as many times as I need to decide against it.”

Loki stood and Thor looked up at him, feeling amazement stark on his face. Firstly, that Loki could talk to him as though nothing had passed between them, as though Thor’s misplaced conviction meant nothing, as though he had been forgiven. And secondly, that Loki claimed to have found something precious, something… worthy. “You speak the truth?” 

“It serves my purpose just barely often enough that I am capable of it, yes. You need not look so stunned.” 

Thor smiled. This was the Loki he remembered and loved. No traitor, no general. But that sharp silver tongue and thought behind every word… and heart behind the thought, that was Loki. He had not lost his brother after all, not today. 

But he had come much too close. Thor _would_ be more careful in their future. Any time they now had together was a gift, a second chance, and Thor did not mean to waste this one too. 

“And when have we ever been constrained by need?” 

His spirit sang to hear his brother laugh, freely and unforced. To laugh for joy. “Never.” 

Loki held out his hand to Thor, and smiled. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> Firstly, a HUGE thank-you to everybody from LJ who'd read the first version. Thanks for sticking it out to the end, especially when you knew I had it already written and I was dragging it out. Also thanks for not leaving even one spoiler in the comments; you guys are awesome.
> 
> Secondly, to everybody else who's gotten this far, an even huger thank-you. It's seriously been the best thing about my whole week to wake up and read all your impossibly positive comments. I almost cannot believe how much love you guys have for this fic. I actually wrote this about six weeks ago, before I got my AO3 account, and I figured I'd post it up and edit it in just a few rough places. But each of you has almost been an informal beta, telling me what you want to see, and this last chapter was about 10% larger than the original, because of your feedback. I really hope it was worthy of your support. 
> 
> Sequel is in the works: _Despair And Defiance_. Thor got jealous that he wasn't in _Heart_ very much, so he gets some proper attention. There's also a lot of fallout from Loki and Tony's little assignation; Thor and Steve are nothing compared to what Loki's facing in _Despair_. I'm also bringing in Clint's recovery from Loki's control, which is difficult for all the wrong reasons. 
> 
> That should be enough to make you suffer while waiting for me to get my brain into gear and actually write it. LOKI'D!
> 
> Written for [this](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/6565.html?thread=11969189#t11969189) prompt at Avengerkink.


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